


Alter Ego

by moonside, swordliliesandebony



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Deepthroating, Edgeplay, Explicit Consent, Gloves, Hand Jobs, Ice Play, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Masks, Medical Kink, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Photography, Rope Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Club, Suspension, Temperature Play, a lot of banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonside/pseuds/moonside, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordliliesandebony/pseuds/swordliliesandebony
Summary: Alter Ego is Insomnia's most premier, exclusive Adult Lifestyle club. Behind the unassuming doors, anything goes. Noctis doesn't think he belongs here, but he also doesn't think he'll meet the love of his life in a sex club.





	1. Silver and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Happy kinktober, y'all! Hope everyone is ready for some sex club shenanigans.
> 
> We'll be alternating chapters here more or less arbitrarily and based on who likes what prompts. 
> 
> Chapter 1: Swordliliesandebony
> 
> Catch us elsewhere:  
> moonside @ https://twitter.com/thatdest  
> swordliliesandebony @ https://swordliliesandebony.tumblr.com/ or https://twitter.com/swordlilyebony

Noctis shouldn’t be here.

He knew it before he walked in. He knew it from the first moment he found the online open invitation and found his body growing warm at the idea. Royalty has no place in this sort of establishment. He can only imagine the scandalous headlines— _ Young Prince Frequents Local Sex Club _ —and what it hell it would mean for him.

This thought is on his mind while his fingers trace the edge of his mask. He watches his dark-gloved finger trace the delicate gold filigree, the intricate geometrical design on pure black. It’s a classic half-face mask and, Noctis must admit, it does more to conceal his identity than he would have expected. He can still recognize himself in the mirror, but with the top half of his face concealed, he wonders whether he might yet get away with it.

There is also, of course, the promise of discretion from the lounge itself. They swear by a strict code of silence, with a threat of exile for anyone who might disclose another’s dirty little secrets a promise made in their pages. Truthfully, it’s a more tasteful affair than he would have expected; on the surface, in any case. The entryway of the place is a mix of black walls, plush red furniture, and shining marble floors. There’s a small bar there, a necessary bit of liquid courage available on a limited basis. The bathroom that Noctis has fled almost immediately to is clean and pleasant, well-lit and well-stocked. Perhaps, at some point, he’ll leave it.

Walking in, Noctis had told himself, would be the difficult part. But now that he’s here, he finds that there isn’t a part that’s easy. He lingers there in front of the mirror and he observes himself at one angle, then another. He wonders whether anyone knows the royal visage so well that this wouldn’t be enough a disguise. He’s trailing fingers down his jaw when the door swings open and a man passes behind.

He’s  _ gorgeous _ .

Noctis swears he’s never seen anything like him. There’s a styled mop of blonde hair that falls over a white half-mask. He hasn’t prepared in the way Noctis has—it’s one of the cheap, plastic toy masks that are provided to those without their own at the door. But, on the other hand, he’s far more prepared than Noctis. He wears sleek, shining leather that hugs his body like a second skin. More leather—or something that mimics it, in any case—lies beneath. His ass is perky, well-rounded, lifted and pushed out and properly accentuated by heeled boots that cut off above the knee. All in white, he looks like some sort of beautiful, slutty angel.   

“You alright?” Noctis doesn’t realize he’s been staring until the man speaks and the reverie is broken. He blinks at his own face in the mirror, at the reflection of the man behind him, and he nods quickly.

“I’m fine. Just…” Just what? Just terrified that he’s about to be outed in a damn sex club, all because he couldn’t find a safer, more discreet route to his desires. He doesn’t say that though, doesn’t say anything at all. Because that stupidly gorgeous blonde is smiling at him and the world is falling away, fading at the edges until the reflection is all that exists.

“First time, huh?” He asks. That smile is sympathetic, though it’s only brief before the guy disappears behind one of the privacy barriers, clearly here to use the bathroom for its intended purpose. Noctis knows he needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of the club entirely. It isn’t for him. It’s too dangerous, but…  _ gods  _ that man is magnetic. He wants to know more, wants to  _ see  _ more. He’s entranced, standing there stock still while his own reflection is all to keep him company.

“That obvious?” He manages a retort and Noctis finds some pride that he finds his voice at all. A chuckle echoes the toilets and he winces, just for a moment. He can run now and nobody would ever know the better. But he can’t run at all, because he’s caught up in the pull of the stranger and he won’t be happy until he at least sees him properly. His wish is granted quickly, when the man finishes his quick business and joins Noctis in front of the sinks.

“It’s pretty impressive. You’ve totally got that ‘deer in the headlights’ thing goin’ even with the mask.” The chuckle comes again and Noctis melts, he absolutely melts over it. He’s watching a stranger washing his hands and he’s falling into some sort of trance over that spell. Okay, more accurately, he’s watching the curve of his spine, the appealing round of his ass while he shifts from foot to foot. And he knows that doesn’t go unnoticed, because the blonde doesn’t let it slide. “You just here for the show?”

“Sorry, I—” before he can even utter the full apology, the man is laughing once again. He shakes his head and the way his bangs fall across his mask is absolutely endearing; just as that smile is, and the way it lights his eyes behind their mask. Slender fingers brush the hair out of the way and he flashes a grin instead, wide and bright and perfect.

“—Actual question. Some people just come to watch. Nothin’ wrong with that, but I gotta admit, I’m hoping you’re in it for some action.” The forwardness of the statement catches Noctis as off guard as anything else and for a moment he can’t respond at all. He isn’t sure what his answer really is, either. Maybe his intention had been to find someone, to get off, to go home happy. But as soon as he had walked in, he had relegated himself to—at best—having a look around. Maybe treating it all as a show.

“You offering?” He surprises himself by managing to sound anywhere close to confident with the question. It’s a  _ dumb  _ question. How much more obvious could the guy make it? Still, Noctis is surprised. He really  _ does  _ look entirely out of his element here. More than that, he’s not exactly dressed for the role. While this guy is all white and leather and clearly out for some fun, Noctis looks more like he’s out for a long night of negotiations. He’s all business, suit and tie in perfect black. There are gold accents around his cuffs, on the buttons of his dress shirt, the only sign of flash to the ensemble save the mask. Now, he thinks he’s woefully unsuited for the occasion.

“Maybe. If you promise me you’re not gonna bolt the second I actually walk you inside. I’m guessin’ you’ve been standing in here the whole time, thinking about leaving. I like a tease, but I don’t like  _ that  _ kind of teasing.” He throws on a pout that is absolutely magnificent. Prompto feels like he’s being collared, like the man is tugging him by a lead with that expression. Actually, that doesn’t sound half bad…

“If you’re the reward, then I swear it.” Noctis puts his hand over his heart—suddenly beating  _ incredibly  _ quickly—for his half-mocking oath. Truthfully, there’s no way in hell he would leave now that he has the attention of such a man. That must be clear enough, because a hand is extended to him and the pout returns to a smile.

“I go by Silver around here.” He introduces, and he waits expectantly for the same. Noctis takes his hand and squeezes it, but he forgets to do anything else. It’s an awkward moment, but it seems to delight Silver, who only inclines his head when it’s stretched too long. Noctis pulls back and his hand goes to the back of his own head, a nervous gesture where he scratches through his hair then smooths it back out.

“I’m—” he has to stop himself, because he nearly gives his actual name. And wouldn’t  _ that  _ be the perfect seed for a scandal? He frowns and then admits, “—I guess I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” Silver, again, appears to be deeply amused. It makes Noctis feel a little bit foolish, but that smile doesn’t fail to make his heart flutter so how can he dwell too much?

“Guess it’s up to me then,” he ponders this for a moment, then his fingers reach up to trace the delicate lining on Noctis’s mask. He nearly recoils for fear that the man intends to remove it, but instead he only traces down Noctis’s jaw after, “why don’t I just call you Gold?” He taps the mask lightly with his thumb, as though the reference might not otherwise land.

“Silver and Gold,” Noctis smirks and silver grins that wide, toothy grin again, nodding. “I think I like it. And I think I’m ready to get the hell out of the bathroom,” his increasing confidence feels like a good sign to Noctis. He’s found some safety in the false name, especially as it’s been bestowed upon him by another. And he’s finding his confidence along with that sense of security, as he’s now letting Silver guide him from the bathroom. The warmth of his hand is evident, even through the leather glove Noctis is still donning, and it’s absolutely appealing, almost enough to have him stripping away that extra layer just to experience the heat of his skin.

The club itself, when they make it through the lobby, is something to behold. They press through double doors and find themselves opened to a dance floor, all strobing lights and pulsing music. There are people dancing—some on poles, some in cages, some on the floor itself—and some doing a little bit more. Noctis doesn’t miss roaming hands or lingering gazes between couples as the occasional light casts over. The colors are dazzling, reflecting on outfits and masks and for a moment Noctis is utterly entranced by the foggy atmosphere.

“We can dance, if you want.” Silver has to raise his voice over the music. He’s watching Noctis with that same bemused look he wore in the bathroom. It sounds terribly appealing for a moment, but only for a moment. He looks Silver over again and he’s glowing a brilliant ultraviolet under the room’s blacklight. It accentuates every curve, every milky bit of skin between all the leather, and Noctis wants very much to be doing very much more than dancing.

“Maybe later?” He calls back. It makes Silver’s smile widen and, again, he’s being pulled by his hand before Noctis entirely knows what’s happening. This time when they exit the room, toward the back of it, they emerge into a hallway. There are rooms scattered on each side, some with doors, some with wide viewing windows and couples putting on great displays behind them, and some open and unoccupied. He notices some of the rooms have themes—they range from deep dungeons to doctor’s offices to jail cells. There’s a room they pass which is larger, lined with hot tubs, and that feels somewhat appealing in its own right. But Prompto keeps walking them down the endless hallway, until there are doors with frosted glass and locks on the handles and signs that indicate whether or not they’re occupied.

“I get the feeling you’re not quite up for putting on a show.”

“Not quite yet.” Noctis agrees, though there’s some appeal there. The idea of getting Silver shoved to the mattress of one of those big, plush beds while passersby ogled at them—at Noctis, balls deep in the little blonde—holds a sort of thrill he hadn’t expected to experience. But he’s not there just yet and Silver doesn’t seem to mind. He finds them a room that is labeled as vacant and he opens the door for Noctis, sure to flip the sign before they enter.

It’s a tiny lounge with a sofa that hugs and wraps around two walls. There are plush curtains behind and more of the fancy marble tiling on the ground. A pole reaches floor to ceiling in the center of the place and Noctis can picture Silver with his thighs around it, twirling easily, putting on one hell of a show.

That isn’t, it turns out, the route they’ll be taking. Silver locks the door behind them and, without much fanfare, he pushes Noctis back until his knees press the edge of the sofa. He sits himself down without a thought, practically toppling onto the overstuffed leather. It’s comfortable. It’s more than comfortable when Silver crawls into his lap. He doesn’t waste any time in grinding the two of them together, or allowing a sigh when he feels the way it brings Noctis his first stirrings of life.

“Seems like you have something in mind,” Noctis breathes the words heavily, his eyes lidded behind his mask. He reaches up to cup Silver’s cheek. He’s immediately rewarded by the blonde’s head tilting and a wet, eager kiss being pressed to his palm. Then the heat of his tongue is dragging up his first two fingers, wrapping around, playing a game that has Noctis’s cock twitching in appreciation against his pants.

“I want you to trust me.” Silver says plainly, his voice dropped to nothing but husk, nothing but heat. He smirks at the way Noct’s face turns a little bit to shock. Then that melts away, because lips are pressing to his, that skilled tongue is slipping into his mouth, and it’s impossible to be displeased by the idea. He moans into the kiss, absolutely shameless, and Silver grinds again. This time, their mutual interest is obvious and Noctis is even more appreciative of those shorts than he had been before.

“What are you going to do?” Noctis is curious, intrigued, more than he is concerned. Maybe that’s dangerous—certainly it is—but what about this whole excursion  _ isn’t _ ? His fingers start at Silver’s back, his hands spreading and spanning. He’s slim, and caged slimmer by the corset. Noctis works his fingers down the boning, down the artificially narrow waist, down to the jut of his hipbone. He grips at the curve of his ass, so immediately appealing, and draws Silver to grind again. This time, Noctis is the one that wins a groan, something low and just barely breathed against his throat.

“I,” Silver punctuates his words first by easing off Noctis’s jacket. Then, with each one he pops one of those gold-trimmed buttons on his shirt, “am going to make you come—” he presses kisses down Noctis’s chest now, chasing the spots the buttons had been lying over, chasing a defined line downward, “—like you never have before.”

Noctis can’t help the shameless noise he makes when Silver’s tongue dips below his navel after he drops from his lap to the floor. He feels empty for a moment without that weight, that pressure, but all is forgiven by fingers eagerly working open the button to his slacks, pulling them down without more than a brief willing lift of his hips.

Maybe he should be ashamed by how hard he already is, but it’s impossible to feel anything of the like with Silver’s cheek nuzzling the heavy bulge through his briefs. Then, suddenly, there’s the heat of his mouth, the wet of saliva against the fabric, and Noct’s head is falling back with a heavy groan. He’s lost in it immediately, long before the man is peeling down his underwear, leaving that forgotten around his ankles as well.

“Talking a big game,” he breathes, belatedly, as if that isn’t enough proof that Silver is more than talk. He wins a smirk from that and Noctis notices now the heavy dusting of freckles across his cheeks. It’s an absolutely endearing detail he can’t believe he overlooked before. He wants to run his lips over them, wants to connect the dots. But more than that, he wants to see those soft lips wrapped around his cock.

“Don’t worry. I always deliver.” The words rumble over Noctis’s erection and he lifts his hips again, inviting this time rather than assisting with any undress. Another one of those chuckles follows, then the slow, long drag of Silver’s tongue up the underside of his heavy, aching cock. He traces a vein, seeks out sensitivity, finds more of it at the head where his tongue swirls and dips and makes Noctis clench his jaw.

Noctis doesn’t doubt the words, and he doesn’t tease any further. He doesn’t say anything at all, in fact, because his wish is so soon being granted. Silver adjusts himself between Noct’s legs and, with those gorgeous blue eyes focused up on him, he works his lips around the head of Noctis’s cock, sucking heavily while his tongue presses flat. It’s enough to make his vision go briefly out of focus and he swears it would be enough to make him come right then and there if he didn’t have just a little bit of self control.

He feels fingers play at his balls, rolling and stroking while Silver’s mouth envelopes him further. He bobs slightly and with each movement, he takes him further—deeper—impossibly deep. Noctis thinks, each time, that he can’t go any further, but he does. Until he’s bottomed out, until he can feel his cock pressing against the back of his throat. It’s a wet, tight heat, and it feels fucking amazing.

It’s not that Noctis has never had a partner before, but he’s never had one who does  _ this— _ who takes him whole in his mouth, so thoroughly focused on his pleasure. Another groan tears from his lips when the man begins to move, a slow and gentle rhythm to start. It’s absolutely maddening how much he wants more. His fingers move and tangle into that soft blonde hair. He doesn’t guide, doesn’t force, but he strokes through the locks, encouraging and appreciative.

Not that Silver seems to need any encouragement.

He works eagerly at Noctis’s erection, his motions becoming more swift as he goes. His tongue flicks and dances against Noctis as he moves and it borders quickly on more than he can bear. It isn’t long before that familiar heat is curling up in his belly, threatening an early and heavy release. Silver must notice this too, must taste the bitter of precum in the back of his throat, because he’s easing his free hand down his shorts and he’s slowing his movement while a hand wraps around himself. 

He looks amazing down there, with his eyes still bright and fixed upward at Noctis’s through their masks. With his hand wrapped around his own slender, throbbing cock, working himself off in time with Noctis. He doesn’t even pull his shorts down all the way and the angle is obscuring most of the delicious view, but Noctis thinks he can peek at golden curls around the band of leather. He has the sudden desire to bury his own face there.

But Silver isn’t allowing for that. His motions become heavier, quicker once again. He groans against Noctis’s cock and it’s almost enough to undo him then and there. Noct keeps his fingers stroking through his hair, that same attempt at encouragement.

“Fuck, that feels good—” He hisses a line of pure praise and he feels a sound rumble through Silver’s throat, against his cock again. It’s too much, “—I’m close,  _ fuck,  _ I’m close—” And he wishes, for just a moment, that he hadn’t said it, because the heat leaves him for a split second. It’s only for a moment though, only long enough for Silver to crawl back into his lap, to take his hand and wrap it eagerly around both of their erections while he rocks up against him.

“That’s good. Go ahead, you can come for me. Show me how good it feels,” the encouragement might be what does it. Or maybe it’s the way he tastes his own bitter musk on Silver’s tongue when they’re suddenly kissing again. Whatever it is, Noctis is in the throes of his orgasm before he knows what hits him. He’s groaning while Silver’s teeth close lightly, tug at his lower lip. He’s trembling, near convulsing, while he’s milked through, while he feels more wet heat spurting between them as his companion joins. 

It’s absolutely earth-shattering.

Noctis’s mind falls to pieces and he can’t say that Silver oversold himself. He feels like he’s never felt before, like this moment was somehow more intense, more intimate, than any he’d ever shared with another. Hell, better by miles than anything he’s ever experienced with his own hand or a toy and a nice video. He wants that pleasure to last. He wants to go again, and again. He doesn’t want this night to end, to ever part from this stranger who immediately decided he wanted him, without any knowledge of name or status.

He wants to keep feeling the warm weight of Silver tucked against his chest, his breath on bare skin while he rides out his own pleasure. He wants to know, so he asks—

“What happens now?”

“Now,” Silver says, breathless, smiling at him when he lifts his head, “we dance.”     __


	2. All Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis swears he won't go back, but here he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2! 
> 
> This chapter was written by your resident nasty, moonside. <3
> 
> ... which, is obvious, given that it was a medical kink day today LMAO.

Noctis spends all week telling himself he’s not going to go back.

 

He _can’t_ go back. It was risky enough, visiting that stupid club once. It’s a damn miracle nobody recognized him. It’s a damn miracle _Silver_ hadn’t recognized him, because Noct’s only Insomnia’s most eligible bachelor, royal blood in his veins and enough gold attached to the family name to attract _anyone._ It’s ironic, really, that he’d ended up with the nickname _Gold._

 

(If only his new ‘friend’ knew…)

 

It was just once. Just enough to sate his curiosity, Noct repeats in his head, a mantra. He’s not going back.

 

\---

 

Naturally, a day later, Noctis finds himself standing in the middle of the club. The music pulses around him – the air is electric, alive with the thrum of the bass, with the energy of sex and booze and drugs. It’s not Noct’s scene at _all,_ and that’s quickly becoming even more apparent than last time.

 

He doesn’t retreat to the bathroom this time, at least, but that’s not saying much, because fight or flight is quickly kicking in. For someone with some much status, so much stature in his regular life – he can’t handle _this._

 

He wants to turn around and leave, and fuck, Noctis almost does, but there’s a part of his mind that’s screaming out, wishing for his mysterious companion to reappear. Gods, the man was hot, and Noct’s almost (almost) ashamed of just how many times he’s jerked off to the memory of those perfect, plush lips wrapped around the base of his cock, those expressive eyes behind the mask staring up at him.

 

His cock twitches in his pants, and Noctis makes his way to the bar, instead of fleeing to the exit. Some liquid courage is all he needs, right?

 

He’s halfway through his drink (a Manhattan, because he takes after his father in _some_ respects, though thinking about his dad is a sex club is the last thing Noct wants to do), when a familiar voice sneaks up on him.

 

“Didn’t think I’d see ya here again.”

 

Noctis damn near drops his drink – _smooth, Caelum,_ he tells himself – as he feels the puff of hot air against the back of his neck. He fumbles, catches himself, and spins around, and _there_ he is, the centerpiece to all of Noct’s fantasies over the past week.

 

Silver’s wearing the mask again, but it doesn’t hide the bright, vivid eyes beneath. There’s a playfulness to his expression, one that Noct picks up on instantly – and he thinks, just maybe, that the other looks pleased to see him. He hopes so, at least, because Noct is damn glad to see him again. He knows, deep down, that if he _hadn’t_ bumped into the blonde again, he probably would’ve left empty-handed and alone. That’s… a pathetic thing to think, isn’t it? It’s not like exclusivity exists at a place like this.

 

“Yeah? Tried pretty hard to scare me off last time, didn’t you?” Noctis teases, barely missing a beat. He’s pleased at how quickly he can keep up with the blonde – how, somehow, they seem to exist on the same wavelength, even though they don’t know each other at all.

 

The blonde’s eyes narrow behind the mask, and he _laughs._ “You think that was intense? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

 

Noctis tips back the rest of his drink, downing it in one steady, long gulp. Setting his glass aside – to be dutifully collected, instantly, by a club attendant – he tips his head, lets his eyes drag appreciatively over Silver’s body. He’s wearing a bodysuit tonight, holographic and made of a shimmery, silver fabric, just like the nickname itself. It leaves absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination, and maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just a week’s worth of fantasies kicking in, but Noct’s shameless as he drags his eyes over the other’s body.

 

Silver has _amazing_ thighs. That ass is still to die for, and everything – the jut of his hips, the nice taper of his waist, the slim shoulders and muscular arms and the _slightest_ bit of plush to his chest – it’s going right to Noct’s dick. He’d tried to blend in a little better, but… nothing in his wardrobe necessarily screams _sex club._ He traded the suit in for a black shirt, tight leather pants and combat boots, but somehow Noctis gets the feeling that it makes it even more apparent he doesn’t belong here.

 

“You gonna show me a good time again?” Noctis asks, and he’s grateful for the booze, grateful that he can find the balls to say it.

 

Silver’s eyes flash behind the mask, and his lips quirk into a playful smirk. “Thought you’d _never_ ask.”

 

The other man shifts his weight, juts his hip to the side, and Noct’s eyes follow the motion. He knows he’s staring. He knows his _own_ pants leave nothing to the imagination either, and the distinct press of his swelling cock is already giving him away. He should probably feel bad – he doesn’t _know_ this guy. He knows nothing about him, except the nickname and the fact that he’s hot as hell.

 

But, there’s a certain appeal to someone _wanting_ him, someone who has no idea of his title, his status. It’s a first for Noctis, and he’s high on the sensation of it.

 

Silver extends a hand, and Noctis reaches out. Their fingers twine together, and the other man’s grip is firm, his fingers strong and slender. It’s surprisingly warm, and just like that, Noctis lets himself be led through club again.

 

It’s still a maze of private chambers with various themes, and a good part of Noctis hopes that he never becomes acquainted enough with the place to learn his way around. The other man seems adept at navigating – and Noctis realizes he doesn’t entirely _like_ that, knowing that Silver’s been here enough to be familiar. He doesn’t exactly want to consider why he feels that way.

 

“You look lost,” Silver comments, looking back over his shoulder. Their eyes meet through the holes of their masks, and Noctis can only shrug.

 

“I have a lot on my mind,” he admits softly. Somehow, the confession feels like it’s as out of place as _he_ himself is.

 

Silver laughs, but his eyes narrow and he focuses Noctis with an intense gaze. “People come here to forget, y’know,” he offers up instead.

 

Noctis frowns. “Do you?”

 

It’s an inappropriate question, and he knows it. Silver doesn’t respond right away, and instead he straightens, squeezing Noct’s hand and turning his gaze back in front of him. Noct worries, for a moment, that he’s pushed too far, that he’s gotten too _personal_ and the other man will leave.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Silver says, though, instead, and it’s in a tone that Noct knows well enough from years of dealing in politics and intrigue. _Let it go,_ is what the words say, and he doesn’t push.

 

“What you have in mind tonight?” Noctis asks instead. They’ve passed by a few dungeon-themed rooms, ones that get Noct’s heart racing and a strange, thrilling terror rising within him. He’s too tame for all of those things—but the curiosity is there and real. Maybe if he comes back. Maybe _when_ he keeps coming back, because as long as this blonde is here to show him the ropes – well, Noctis is enthralled.

 

Silver shrugs noncommittally, but he looks over his shoulder again, and Noct’s grateful that their eyes meet, and a strange jolt of electricity surges in the air between them. “You’re gonna trust me again, right?”

 

“If you’re lucky,” Noctis responds lightly. He’s grateful for the mask, because his expression is too eager, his eyes outright screaming, _yes, I trust you._

 

Silver grins and turns away, and his grip on Noct’s hand tightens. He leads the way, turns down a hall, and pulls Noctis into an unoccupied private room off the side. The door slides shut, and they’re _alone,_ and suddenly, Noctis feels a fire lit beneath his feet and burning into his very fucking chest.

 

The blonde opens his mouth to speak – but Noctis doesn’t give him the chance. He surprises himself, really, with how fucking quickly he’s curling his arms around the other man, tugging him close. Their lips meet and tangle, frantic and desperate and outright _dirty._ Noct’s teeth sink in, nip at a plush lower lip – and the quiet, needy sound he draws out goes straight to his cock. He’s half-hard already, his erection tenting against leather pants that are way too tight, and it’s _shameless._

Always, in the back of his mind, Noctis knows – he’s royalty. He’s the damn crown prince, and it’s only the mask that’s shrouding his identity. One slip, one mistake, and his whole life is ruined. If Silver gets too close, if this other man clues in – it’s ruined, too. He could be extorted, he could be sold out, he could be fucking _exiled_ –

 

It’d be the ultimate scandal, and somehow, that has Noct’s chest heaving, has his cock twitching and straining against his pants.

 

“Someone’s eager,” the blonde teases, wiggling his hips and showing off his lithe, muscular frame as he takes a step back. Noctis follows – taking a step forward – and he realizes, suddenly, that they’re in one of the _themed_ rooms. He realizes it, of course, because Silver’s backing directly into an examining table and _oh._

 

Noctis isn’t inexperienced. He’s seen a good amount of porn, too, because when he’d been younger, he’d been kept on a tight leash. There’d been no real chance to experiment and mess around, and so he’s… not unfamiliar to niche kinks. It’s not necessarily something he’s chased after now, but – oh, suddenly, there’s a tight twisting in his gut. He’s _curious_ about where this is going.

 

And, somehow, Noct knows that Silver is about ready to keep him guessing.

 

“Any reason you picked this room?” Noctis asks, and his voice is rough with arousal. Silver’s got a tight grip on the back of his shirt now, and the motion has Noct’s cock grinding into a muscular, bare thigh, one that his tiny little bodysuit does nothing to hide.

  
Silver draws back a little more, and the grin on his face is absolutely _wicked._ “You seem the type of guy to get off on this kinda thing,” he offers up. His fingers loosen, and they slide around, idly running up Noct’s chest, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. “Confirm or deny, Gold?”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, beneath the mask. “You’re making assumptions.” Of course, his mind is racing. He seems the _type?_ Exactly what type does the other man mistake him for?

 

He doesn’t ask. Silver slides back a little more, and his hands lower to grip at the examining table he’s propped up against. He scoots back, hoists himself up – and shapely legs swing as he seats himself right at the edge of the table, the plush lines of his ass hanging off the end.

 

“Should I call you _doctor_ Gold?” he asks, batting his eyelashes. Through the holes in his mask, Noctis realizes that he can make out just how _long_ they are, thick and golden and perfect, framing those bright, vibrant eyes. Not for the first time, Noct finds himself wishing he could rip the mask off, that he could get a good look at his anonymous partner’s face.

 

The biting response, too, ‘ _no, call me Doctor Caelum’_ is right on the tip of Noct’s tongue. Of course, he can’t say that. So, instead, he narrows his eyes, taking a step forward to stare the blonde down.

 

“Don’t be rude. Who’s in charge here?”

 

Silver laughs, and settles himself back on the table. The faux examination room is going for the realistic appeal – there’s paper crinkling on the table beneath the other’s slender body. The walls are lined with dumb charts and diagrams that really _do_ belong in a medical office. And, of course, there’s a cabinet filled with various devices that grab Noct’s attention but – he’s too shy to go after them, too naïve and… frankly, too vanilla.

 

Maybe another time. If he keeps coming back, Noct makes a mental note to work up to that. To go home, do his research on gross porn sites, to pocket the knowledge for the future.

 

“If you’re suggesting you wanna be in charge, by all means, go for it,” Silver offers up.

 

Noctis takes the invitation. He leans forward, and a hand finds its way to the blonde’s chest. With a bit of pressure, it’s easy to push Silver down onto the examining table. The paper crinkles beneath him as he shifts, as slender legs lift and bend at the knee, spread wide and open for him. Fuck, it’s a good look. Fuck, Noct’s hard, and his pants are distinctly _way_ too tight now.

 

Since when did he turn into a kinky motherfucker?

 

“So,” Noctis asks softly, his voice pure _evil_ and his eyes narrowed as he looks the blonde over like he’s a predator staring down his prey. “What’s the reason for your doctor’s visit today?”

 

Silver looks like he’s torn between amusement and arousal, and finally seems to settle on _both._ It’s a good choice, really – why do the two emotions have to be distinctly separated, anyway? “Routine physical?” he offers up, and one leg lifts, trembling a little with his anticipation. Noctis hadn’t really paid attention to the stiletto heels the blonde’s wearing, not until suddenly one pointed heel is dragging across his hip, tracing the band of his too-tight pants. The touch is delicate, feather-light and barely there, but there’s a distinct pressure as it drags over Noct’s clothed cock, pressing in. It’s both dangerous and teasing, and Noctis _groans._

“Yeah? Why don’t you be a good boy and strip for me then?” he finds himself saying, and Noctis almost doesn’t recognize himself.

 

He doesn’t know where this lust-crazed creature came from, really. Every aspect of Noct’s life is controlled, pointed and deliberate. This club – Alter Ego, and fuck, it lives up to its name – brings out an entirely different side to him. Or, fuck, maybe it’s his strange sexual partner. Maybe it’s all Silver. Noctis doesn’t know.

 

Here, though, he’s Gold, and he’s going to make it count.

 

Silver’s wriggling his hips, carefully slipping out of his tiny little bodysuit, and Noct’s eyes hone in, watching every lithe motion. He leaves the heels on – and Noctis groans at the sight of this blonde, all slender-limbed and toned muscle, revealed to him entirely for the first time.

 

The light in their faux examining room is sterile, but still dimmed to fit the overall aesthetic of the club. Still, Noctis gets the distinct impression that the blonde is blushing under his scrutinizing gaze – though he hides it quickly, putting back up that clever, self-indulgent mask. And gods, Silver has nothing to be embarrassed of. His waist is small, his hips are so fucking wide it’s sinful, and his chest looks slightly soft, though muscular. Noct’s lips itch to close around one pink, perky nipple – and of course, between the blonde’s thighs, his cock is hard, curved up against his belly and leaking precome.

 

It’s perfect. He’s _perfect._

 

“Be gentle, doctor,” Silver teases, wiggling a little as he settles back down on the examining table, his legs still slightly bent. His cock is twitching as he _waits,_ and Noctis has half a mind to kneel before him, to return the favour from last week and get that thick length down his throat.

 

There’s a small tray set up next to the examining table, though, and it catches Noct’s eye. There’s a few shining, metal devices that he’s a little afraid of – forceps, speculums and some long, silvery rods – and Noct isn’t brave enough to go after _those._ But there’s a pair of latex gloves and a bottle of lube, and _fuck,_ if that isn’t intriguing.

 

Silver’s eyes are following his every move, too, and Noctis swears, he hears a quiet, needy groan escpae the other’s lips as he picks up the gloves and pulls them on with a satisfying _snap._

 

“I think _you’re_ the one who’s got the weird kink,” Noctis teases. He fumbles with the lube as he picks it up, and he hopes that it’s not super noticeable just how fucking _nervous_ he is. He knows what he’s doing, of course, but… this is entirely different. This is a weird roleplay scene in the middle of sex club. It’s with a stranger, someone who he doesn’t even _know,_ and Noctis really doesn’t know what limits are, or what’s pushing too far.

 

Silver, naturally, spreads his legs a little more and lifts his ass up off the table. He’s trembling a little, and he outright _shudders_ at the first drag of Noct’s latex-clad fingertips along his inner thigh. Noctis is intrigued. He wants to take his time – he wants to be slow, methodical, to take this other man apart bit by bit and put him back together again.

 

But, fuck, he’s impatient, too. Silver isn’t helping Noct’s cause to slow down, with how he lifts up and wiggles his hips enticingly. His ass is _perfect,_ smooth and round and absolutely sinfully perky, and his entrance is on display, his rim soft and pink and relaxed and _so_ fucking ready.

 

“C’mon, isn’t this a full bodied exam?” he teases, batting his lashes at Noctis, and fuck, Noct snaps.

 

He’d be a shitty doctor, but that’s why he’s a prince, that’s why he’s a future king, instead of someone _actually_ helpful. Noctis is used to getting his way, and he’s more than a little spoiled, as much as he often wishes he wasn’t. That petulant streak comes out in full, sudden and fierce. Reaching for the lube, he smears it over his fingertips – groaning at the cool liquid rushing over the latex. It’s a strange sensation, and it’s hot as hell, the way the man on the table _whines._

 

“You’re totally getting off on this,” Noctis comments, and the blonde’s cock twitches, drooling a smear of precome over his toned belly in response. Yeah. He totally is.

 

Somehow, too, Noct’s nerves all fizzle out and fade away as soon as he’s half-draped over the blonde’s body. He’s leaning heavily against the examining table, one hand on the blonde’s inner thigh, holding him open. The other hand reaches down – presses against that soft, relaxed rim – and a finger goes in easily. Slick, lubed up and cold from the latex, the blonde _moans_ at the sensation.

 

“Fuck—” he gasps, and he’s shameless, with how that blonde head tosses back, with how sinfully aroused he looks. “… s’good, c’mon, don’t stop--!”

 

Noct’s second finger slips in as easily as the first does. He doesn’t know entirely what he’s doing. The angle isn’t the best, and it’s not like he’s _super_ experienced. But Silver’s body is fucking made to take his fingers up his ass, apparently, because he rocks his hips down, presses back against the intrusion. Noctis could simply watch, he’s pretty sure, his cock throbbing as the lithe blonde rides his fingers, fucking himself down on them.

 

“You’re gonna get off on that,” Noctis comments idly. His fingers crook, exploring, probing – and he groans, because Silver _gasps_ when he hits the right spot. Noctis rubs his fingers again, teases that sensitive bundle of nerves, and the response is electric. He can _see_ the tremors wracking the blonde’s body, how his inner thighs quake and his cock twitches heavily. He’s achingly hard, they both are, and fuck, suddenly Noct only has one goal in mind: he _has_ to get this man off.

 

He wants Silver to only think about him. He wants to dominate the other man’s fantasies, the way Silver’s taken over his in the past week.

 

Once he’s three fingers deep – the other’s ass open, practically gaping for him, rim pink and swollen and slick from way too much lube – Noctis starts thrusting them. It’s quick, deep drags of his fingers. He’s teasing Silver’s prostate, fucking his fingers into him too deep to be entirely pleasant. Each time he withdraws, he stretches his rim wider, and his thumb presses evil, delicious pressure into his perineum. There’s a rhythm to it, and the gloves add a clinical touch that Noct has to admit – it’s appealing.

 

His cock is aching. Noctis wants to reach into his pants and pull his erection out – but he can’t. He can only focus on his partner, can only keep touching. His hand is aching, but he keeps thrusting his fingers in deeper, keeps rubbing them over Silver’s prostate.

 

“I’m gonna—” is the only warning he gets, and suddenly, Silver’s whole body is tensing. Noctis can’t help but stare – and he’s never seen anything as gorgeous as the sight of the other man finding his release. His cock jumps and he comes, completely _untouched,_ shooting smears of sticky wet mess across his belly, all the way up to his chest, coating stiff pink nipples and lean lines of muscle. He gasps and writhes and rides it out, and it’s a damn intense orgasm. Noctis keeps touching, keeps grinding his fingers deeper – until, finally, the blonde goes limp on the examination table.

 

“… feel better?” Noctis asks, quietly, as he withdraws his cramping, ruined hand. The gloves are sticky and messy with lubricant, and with some effort, he peels them off and tosses them aside.

 

The blonde laughs softly, though he’s a limp, panting mess on the table, absolutely covered in his own release. “… fuck,” he says. “You sure you’re not _really_ a doctor?”

 

Noctis has to laugh. “Absolutely not.”

 

Silver looks like he’s trying to sit up, but his limbs are shaking too heavily, and he looks like he’s made of jelly. “… fuck. Too bad. Always wanted a doctor.” He lifts his eyes, at least, and the mask still hides most of his features, but the smile is wicked and his eyes are soft. Noct’s cock pulses in response, and his chest swells, and his heart is doing a thing that’s way more dangerous.

 

“… I hope you’re at _least_ really rich,” Silver adds.

 

Noctis manages a laugh, though it’s a choked sound, because the irony is killing him. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teases right back.

 

There’s a heartbeat of silence, and then the blonde grins. “… kinda would, yeah. Next weekend?” And, before Noctis can answer, he’s shakily pulling himself up, bracing on a hand. “Don’t answer that. Lemme take care of you, first?”

 

Noctis has to agree – that’s a way better idea. He’s achingly hard, so eager, and absolutely reluctant to think of the future. He doesn’t want to think about _next time,_ because he’s not supposed to get attached. That complicates things, and this is just some fun, casual sex.

 

“I’m all yours,” he says, and then Silver pounces on him. The night, after all, is still young.

 

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! comments and kudos feed my soul and keep me churning out gross. <3 
> 
> You know where to find me: I'm on twitter @thatdest ! 
> 
> My partner in crime: https://swordliliesandebony.tumblr.com/ or twitter @swordlilyebony !


	3. On the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's drawn back like a magnet each time. And each time, he finds Silver waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy day 3! We're back to me, swordliliesandebony, for this one.
> 
> I tried to cram as many as the prompts into it as I could! ;) Temperature play, sensory deprivation, and edgeplay all made it in. And maybe a hint of Noctis gettin' in t r o u b l e~

Noctis never intends to become a fixture at Alter Ego. He doesn’t even mean to reach  _ regular  _ status. But he had never really intended to find someone there. Okay, that isn’t entirely true. He had hoped desperately, in the midst of a dry spell he’d given up on counting, that he would find a night of companionship. He’d imagined some mysterious, anonymous stranger. No face, no name, nothing but a simple night of pleasure to be forgotten as folly afterward. That was what he’d intended, perhaps a little more than he’d expected.

That was very pointedly not what he’d gotten.

A day hasn’t passed where Silver has failed to cross Noctis’s mind. A night hasn’t passed where he’s failed to star in all manner of filthy fantasy—generally with Noct’s hand wrapped around his cock, desperately pumping one out while he tried to remember every detail of the man. He’s not an easy one to forget, which only works to advantage of those visions. He spent a full week seeing a dusting of freckles beneath wide, shining blue eyes. He spent night after night with the sound of his voice echoing through his head, inviting and challenging and almost real enough to actually hear.

So he’s there again, another weekend given over to the hope of a chance encounter. This time, he makes his way to the bar first, having learned his lesson. His eyes are scanning the place from the moment he walks in, and of course he has only one thing in mind. He nearly forgets his order when the bartender takes it, because he swears he sees a flash of blonde on the other side of the room and his heart does a strange, distracting flip. The distraction is enough that he barely tastes the bitter heat of the whiskey when he throws back the drink. He’s trying to find him again—he swears he was just there.

But Noctis doesn’t see him, and his heart is beginning to sink rather than flip. This is, he starts to tell himself, absurd. Two times now, he’s spent his evenings in the company of the stranger. Two times, he’s had his world tilted on its head, experienced the sort of world-rocking pleasure that he hadn’t been certain existed. And he hasn’t even gotten contact information, hasn’t gone so far as to make plans to meet again. It’s always by chance, by happy accident, and it’s driving Noctis mad.

He’s torn between ordering a second drink and simply leaving when the fingers tap his shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks before he leaps though and rather than sinking or flipping, his heart is soaring. 

Silver.

He looks different this time, and Noctis realizes it’s the absence of the mask. The first week he had been here, the masquerade had been an event. That second week, it was still an option that many were indulging in. But now, three weeks out, it seems that the novelty has worn off for many and that Silver is among that number. Noctis can’t say he’s displeased. Seeing Silver’s face properly, without anything to obscure the arrangement, feels like a sort of privilege. And it’s one that Noctis is thoroughly happy for.

“I was starting to wonder if I’d see you.” Noctis is pleased with himself. Communication is coming easier with familiarity and he’s perfectly capable by now of keeping up with the sharp-tongued little blonde. In this case, he’s capable of making the first move, turning his body in an invitation for company at the bar. Silver slips in, so close that Noctis can smell his cologne—something a little bit sweet and smoky, so pleasant he wants to inhale it deeply and, preferably, for a long while.

“Promise I’m worth the wait.” Silver shoots him a wink and motions for the bartender. Noctis makes a point of putting this drink on his own tab, which has Silver eyeing him in a way that borders on suspicious. Noctis wonders if he’s managed to do the wrong thing, committing some unexpected faux pas, but Silver does the same in return and Noctis has a second drink soon enough, along with a hand on his waist.

“I’m inclined to believe that.” Noctis says, smirk playing at his lips. He thinks he would wait for Silver as long as it took, though reality had been otherwise. Would he have bothered getting a second drink before giving up, if he hadn’t been so sure he’d caught a glimpse of him across the bar? Could he have lived on the chance that he would appear, when he had no proof that this  _ engagement _ would continue on?

“So you  _ were  _ waiting.” Silver’s eyes light up when Noctis smiles at the affirmation. If only the man knew how  _ long  _ he’d been waiting. Well, maybe he does know. Maybe he understands exactly how inescapably trapped Noctis is in his web. Maybe he can somehow sense that Noctis has simply been going through the motions of his day-to-day, all the while wondering if he would see this man again when the weekend came.

Silver looks as good as Noctis had been imagining. His look is more casual tonight, and more subdued. He’s wearing darker clothing—a black tank top that hugs every curve, tight across his slender-but-defined form, dark patterned jeans with stylish tears to reveal appealing pale skin to match. His boots tonight don’t have the absurd heels he’d been making a regular part of his ensemble thus far and Noctis realizes for the first time that the man doesn’t tower over him. Rather, he’s perhaps an inch or so shorter. This detail is, somehow, incredibly endearing.

“Might have been.” Noctis watches over sips from his own glass while Silver makes short work of his drink. He decides it a good sign, a promise that they’ll be getting to the  _ fun  _ part sooner rather than later, and he drains his own glass in turn. There’s a light, warm buzzing in his head. Not enough that he would consider himself fully intoxicated, but just enough to put haze around the edges, to ease away what anxiety still clouds his thoughts when he enters this place. 

“Well, I think you probably deserve a reward for being so patient.” Silver’s hand slips downward and squeezes at Noctis’s hip and it sends a jolt of arousal through him already. Just the promise of what’s to come is enough to have his cock stirring in his pants, to have him leaning forward in anticipation. He sets his empty glass down on the bar and, when Silver offers up his other hand, Noctis takes it.    

He thinks it’s lucky that Silver knows this place so well that he can lead Noctis to whatever he has in store for the night. But, that now-familiar surge of emotion is rising too. He refuses to admit the burning in his belly for what it is—jealousy, pure and simple. His temperature ticks up a degree or two when he thinks about Silver behind these doors with anyone else. It’s absurd and it’s inappropriate and it’s a thought Noctis will never speak aloud, that much is for sure.

It’s a thought he can set aside with the knowledge that, for tonight, Silver is his once again.

The room Silver takes Noctis to this time is larger than the original lounge, perhaps the size of the exam room they occupied the week before. Most of the room’s space is given over to an enormous bed, trimmed with silk sheets and overstuffed pillows and an equally enormous headboard. Noctis feels his pulse quicken when he notices the attachments for restraints on that faux wall and wonders if that is what Silver has in store for him tonight.

The rest of the room consists of a tall standing wardrobe, a table at the bedside, and an ice bucket on the table. Silver gives Noctis a chance to take it all in while he locks the door behind them. It’s only a short time though, before Noctis finds himself being eased back onto the bed, before he finds Silver crawling into his lap and pressing their lips together.

He’s happy for the lack of pretense, truth be told. He’s been imagining the taste of Silver’s lips—distinctly tinged with cranberry and liquor tonight—since the last time they met his. He’s been imagining every aspect of the man, and he’s happy to have that weight in his lap, to have those soft lips parting his own, to have that velvety tongue sliding into his mouth.  

“You look good tonight.” Noctis thinks his voice might be too affectionate when their mouths part, but Silver smiles at the compliment and he leans in when Noctis ruffles fingers through his hair. It’s so impossibly soft, even with whatever product he’s using to make it sit the way he does. A part of Noctis wants to ask about it, wants to comment on it, but somehow  _ that  _ is what seems like a step too far.

“I  _ always  _ look good. Better enjoy it while you can.” Silver grins with his words, and it’s absolutely a devilish expression. Noctis opens his mouth to ask what, exactly, that means. But he has his answer soon enough. Silver is guiding him to lounge back against the plush pillows at the head of the bed, and then he’s reaching for the bedside table. It gives a good look at his ass when he’s hunched over on all fours and Noctis doesn’t doubt that’s by design. His hand is itching to touch, but he manages to behave himself on that front.

The realization occurs to him now that, apparently, Silver had been preparing the room. The bucket of ice, the implements on the table, have all been laid out with a purpose in mind. It’s not the room catering to them by its exact nature, but by someone’s careful considerations. Was that why Noctis didn’t come upon him right away? He wonders if it was all with  _ him  _ in mind, if Silver would have simply found a different partner to indulge him had Noctis not arrived. He doesn’t care for that thought, the old burning returning to his belly with it.

What Silver produces from the bedside table, it turns out, is a blindfold. He holds it out for Noct’s examination before he moves with it, and Noctis realizes he’s asking a question without asking it at all— _ is this okay? _ He smiles at the concern, even if it’s not a voiced one.

“You really  _ are  _ the kinky type, huh?” Noctis keeps his tone teasing and Silver looks appropriately proud to be deemed the label. He does arrange his face into something serious though, rearing back on his knees before he moves the play forward.

“You’re allowed to say no, if you don’t like it.” There’s no disappointment in his voice, which Noctis finds a little bit surprising. He clearly has something in mind here, so the fact that there’s no overt encouragement comes a bit unexpectedly. The effect it has, however, is to instill some level of trust in their...what? Is relationship really the right word here? Arrangement...partnership...something. Noctis tries not to dwell on that particular detail, because he doesn’t appreciate the way his pulse quickens at the idea of putting some label to it.

“I like it. Just a little bit surprised.” Noctis shrugs because he’s not sure there’s any reason  _ to  _ be shocked by it. Silver has already proven that he has some specific interests up his sleeve—and so far they tend to fall so perfectly in line with Noctis’s own, that this shouldn’t come as any great revelation. 

“Good. I’d hate to think I’m gettin’ predictable,” Silver smiles, but he puts his face to that serious sort of mask again for a moment, “just remember, we can stop if you ever get uncomfortable. Just say the word.”

“And what word is that?” Noctis knows the basics of this sort of play, though not precisely what Silver has in mind. He knows about safe words in spirit, though in practice he’s never come face-to-face with one. Silver looks thoughtful, then he smiles again and shrugs.

“The usual is ‘red’ for stop, ‘yellow’ for slow down. Simple enough, yeah?”

“Think I can remember it.” Noctis agrees, “Do you expect I’ll be  _ using  _ them tonight?” He frames his voice in such a way that the question certainly resembles a challenge. That makes Silver laugh and it’s such a musical, perfect little sound that Noctis realizes he wants to hear it again and again. He wonders how many ways he can evoke the noise, can reduce the other man to such. 

“Probably not. But it’s good to know for the future. Now here, lean forward,” it’s probably not the most erotic exchange known to man, but Noctis is pleased by it all the same. Needing those words in the future sure does sound like a hell of a lot of fun to him. And it feels like a relief, knowing that Silver plans for this affair to continue. It’s not something they’ve discussed—they don’t do a whole lot of  _ discussing  _ in general—so Noctis has been left to wonder each night. Will he ever see him again?

Noctis’s train of thought is properly derailed by his vision going dark. He’s surprised by just how much the blindfold blocks out as Prompto works the tie around the back of his head. The room was already relatively dim, but now any vision at all is obscured by the mask. Maybe he shouldn’t be trusting Silver so completely—putting his full faith in someone who’s real name he doesn’t even know—but he’s doing just that. And it feels  _ good  _ to do just that. He lets out a breath, a low sigh, and he feels his cock swelling in his pants in further anticipation.

“Now,” Silver’s voice drops to the husky, low tone that is reserved for when they’ve entered their play proper. Noctis feels his fingers working at the top button of his shirt—he didn’t bother with a jacket tonight, the weather unseasonably warm—while Silver speaks. “We have a couple rules tonight, and I expect you to follow them. Understand?” Noctis nods right away and, gods, he wishes he could see how Silver looks right now. With the blindfold in place, every sensation seems elevated. He can hear the light air of breath moving between Silver’s lips and he can feel the slightly cool air as his shirt opens one maddening button at a time.

“Good. First, the blindfold stays on until I decide we’re done with it,” That’s a simple one, and Noctis makes a noise to offer his assent, “Second, none of this playing quiet. I wanna hear how much you like whatever I’m doing to you.” 

“Understood,” Noctis knows better than to nod to that one. He can almost picture Silver smiling at the response and, gods, he realizes quite suddenly that the first rule isn’t going to be as easy as he originally assumed.

“Finally, you’re not allowed to finish until I say so.” That rule is wicked and, again, Noctis can practically see the smirk on Silver’s lips. He wants to argue that, actually, there’s not a whole lot that can be done to stop that. But the idea of being so thoroughly under the man’s control is appealing enough that it has his erection twitching further to life, has his blood running heated through his veins.

“Kinda sounds like you wanna have a screaming mess on your hands,” Noctis arches his back when he feels the last button slide open, leans forward so that Silver can push the shirt off his shoulders and back onto the bed.

“Good. You  _ do  _ understand.” There’s that wickedness in his voice again, the tone that turns Noctis to absolute liquid. He groans at it, and he groans again when he feels Silver plant his hands on his chest and press him back into the pillows once more. He wants to make another noise—one of abject loss—when the pressure releases and he feels Silver crawl away on the bed. He’s going to ask where he’s going, what he’s doing, but instead he’s simply listening. He’s trying to fill in the blanks.

He hears a rattling, clinking sound, first at the bedside table and then moving closer. Noctis can’t place it, but he’s intrigued. Could it be some form of restraint Noctis hadn’t taken time to note at the table before the blindfold went on? He relaxes himself against the pillow and he finds himself gasping, sputtering, when he realizes what it is that Silver was retrieving— 

_ Ice. _

The slick, wet cube traces the line of his throat, down to his clavicle. It makes him shudder, shiver properly while the water trickles down his chest, running along the definition of hard-earned muscle. He doesn’t expect it in the first place, and he certainly doesn’t expect for it to feel so damn  _ good _ . It’s something different, to feel the chill run down as the quickly disintegrating cube makes its way along the dip at his sternum.

Silver traces with the cube, the line of his pectoral and then upward, so that it runs over an already stiff nipple. Noctis’s head falls back with the contact and a groan escapes his lips without restraint. It’s only doubled when a sudden heat touches that same spot, Silver’s lips wrapping around the hardened nub, his teeth teasing and tugging.

Noctis is soon fully hard against the confines of his pants and he’s already writhing. His nipples have always been especially sensitive and this sort of attention, something new and unexpected, doubles the sensation. He wishes he could see, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. But the obstruction of his sight almost certainly adds to the intensity of the sudden cold and the last thing he’s about to do is complain.

“Thought you might like that.” Silver is an absolute tease right now and Noctis groans once again at the words. Of course, he likes it. Silver knows exactly how to drive him crazy, and it’s all by instinct. Not once have they actually  _ discussed  _ their preferences, other than for one another. But somehow, he keeps finding them. And he keeps finding ones that Noctis didn’t even know he had.

The process repeats on the opposite side of his chest, but this time Silver must have switched is hands because one rubs harshly over the front of his pants. The contact is cool and damp and it makes him see stars in the artificial darkness. His hips lift into the touch and Silver grips at him there, rubbing him off through his slacks, promising that they’ll need to be discarded some time to dry. 

“Keep going,” Noctis urges. No, it’s more of a plea, and it wins one of those delightful little chuckles in response. There’s more clinking and it’s clear that Silver is reaching into the bucket again, because a new, large cube is being pressed down the center of his abdomen, tracing a line to his navel, then back up. He’s absolutely arching beneath it, pressing up for more contact. Again, this is followed by the heat of lips, by Silver’s mouth lapping up the trail of water left behind. The constant switch between chill and heat has Noctis’s body going haywire.

He absolutely whimpers when the ice dips to his navel, then lower. It follows the soft line of hair that disappears beneath the band of his pants, then it follows his beltline to one side, follows up one curve of muscle to hip, lifts and traces the other. And each time, Silver’s mouth follows, chasing the cold with his delicious wet heat.

Noctis can practically feel those lips wrapped around his cock, now aching for want of attention. He lifts his hips, trembling with the effort, when the kisses follow up and Silver is nibbling at the jut of his left hip. He feels like he’ll explode, like his heart will burst from his chest or his lungs will over expand and he’ll simply die for the need of  _ more _ . It’s a miracle, an outright gift from the gods, when Silver works open his zipper and begins tugging at his pants.

Then it’s a curse, because a third cube is withdrawn and it works the inside of his thigh. His eyes are rolling helplessly back in his head, as if he can see anything to begin with. His back goes flat against the pillows and his hips lift again when Silver’s face is buried there, so close to his needy, wet cock. By the time Silver reaches his other thigh, Noctis is ready to scream.     

“Please…” He isn’t even sure what he’s asking for with the request, though. He wants more, but of what? More of that icy chill trailing over the most sensitive parts of his body? More of Silver’s mouth, chasing away the cold just moments after? No… he wants to be touched. He wants—needs—further attention. He needs to be released from his underwear, doted on in a very different way.

“So impatient, Gold. That’s going to make this difficult.” He can hear the amusement in Silver’s voice, but he’s too distracted by the jolt of heat that comes with the use of his nickname. It’s a name reserved entirely for Silver’s use, bestowed by him, owned by him. It’s another sign of giving himself over to this, another reminder that he gets to live in this space as someone other than who he really is. Here, he isn’t royalty. Here, he’s just another anonymous, horny, insatiable man looking for an escape. Here, he belongs to Silver.

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“—No, no. It’s fine. We can move on.” Once again with that sound of the ice. This time, it’s the bucket being placed away, or at least Noctis thinks it is. Because after the sound quiets, the bed shifts again, and when he lifts his hips this time, it’s to help Silver get him out of his pants and underwear in one fell swoop. He wants to know what he does with them. Are they set aside with care or simply thrown in a heap on the floor? Part of him wants to say that they should be folded carefully, should he want to avoid wrinkles. It’s an absurd thought to have now and it’s quickly vanquished, because Silver’s hand wraps around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Noctis gasps at the first stroke, long and heavy, Silver’s thumb dipping into his slit to spread precum around the head. It’s absolutely expert. Noctis wonders if Silver uses the same technique on himself. He wonders if they’ve been spending their weeks in similar fashions. Did Silver think of him when they were outside of their little scenes? Did he find himself pressed to the shower wall, hand wrapped around his dick, working one off to the thought of a dark-haired stranger known only as his shimmering counterpart? The idea makes him groan, and without the blessing of his sight, he can visualize it so damn clearly.

“Remember our other rule,” Silver’s voice is a melodic tease and this evokes a different sort of groan. Noctis had forgotten that particular command—that there’s no coming until Silver decides it’s the right time. It seems impossible. He’s already so worked up that he thinks just a few heavy strokes like that might take him over the edge. But Silver is smarter, and his motions become slow and light, teasing him up to the brink.

“I remember,” Noctis says breathlessly, his head falling back again. He’s buried in the pillows and one arm slings across his face. He can feel the heat of his own breath trapped there and he pretends it’s Silver’s, pretends that they’re closer than they are. He feels like he’s being denied by not having their lips pressed together, by not being brought immediately to his building orgasm.

“You’re already close, huh?” Still teasing with the question, teasing with his fingers dancing lightly over the head of Noctis’s cock, then trailing down, a single digit following a heavy vein at his shaft. He moves to his balls then, cupping and rolling, and paying attention to the tight sack in a way that makes Noctis picture an amused smile on his lips. 

“Y-yeah.” Noctis doesn’t mince words with the response, difficult as it may be to get out. What’s worse, is that when Silver hears it, he pulls away entirely. Noctis groans again—a go-to response at this point—and throws his head back in frustration. He’s already tempted to take matters into his own hands. But, thankfully, he’s distracted. Silver’s lips close over his own and, for a moment, all that pressure in his belly is redirected.

He wants more. He wants to tear the blindfold off, wants to see how Silver looks. Is he just as hard as Noctis is? Has he been tending to himself, completely unbeknownst thanks to the obscured vision? Or is he hard against his pants, aching similarly, holding back for some reason known only to him. Noctis’s moan rumbles into the kiss and Silver’s lips part to allow his tongue room to move.

It’s not until Silver begins to touch him again, after leaving plenty of time for Noctis to cool down, that he realizes the game he’s playing. And it  _ is  _ a game. Silver will stroke him off, bring him right to the brink, and them back away. He’ll follow by kissing, or he’ll take up the ice again, go back to Noct’s thighs or his nipples or along his throat. He’ll chase the half-melted cubes with more heated attention from his lips. And then, when he’s satisfied, it’s back to the cycle of teasing.

Noctis doesn’t know how many times this all cycles through before he’s ready to lose his mind, but he’s sure it’s not long. It works into a blur, because his mind is turning more and more to liquid. He’s losing coherent thoughts, losing sense of anything other than how tight that coil in his belly is, how heavy and hard and aching his cock rests and twitches against his belly. How much he needs more. Gods, he needs more.

“I can’t… fuck, Silver, I can’t take much more.” He breaks off their kiss to say it, his breaths coming heavy enough to break up his words. It’s not to say he doesn’t feel good—it feels fucking  _ amazing _ , as a matter of fact. But it feels too amazing, in some way. He’s overstimulated and he’s losing his grip. His fists are clenched into the sheets and his hips are lifting, his thighs trembling, his muscles feeling like jelly.

“Okay, okay. So impatient, geez…” Silver is still teasing him, but his hand wraps around Noctis again and this time he doesn’t slow his movements after a few strokes. Still, Noctis remembers the command and he’s holding back, he’s doing everything he can not to finish before Silver gives the word. It’s an absolutely consuming challenge and he’s not quiet about it. He’s gasping, sputtering, groaning through the attempts. And he’s writhing, wishing he could see the look on Silver’s face, wishing he could have some hint as to how much longer until— 

“—Alright, then. Come for me.” 

It’s absolutely absurd how quickly those words do him in. Maybe there’s another stroke or two, or maybe it’s immediate. Maybe he’s instantly bursting across his own chest and belly, all over Silver’s hand, before the last syllable can even leave his lips. Noctis isn’t sure, because time is a blur for him. All that exists is his pleasure. There are colors bursting in his temporarily blinded eyes, there’s a distinct static in his ears that echoes his breath and his frantic heartbeat and Silver making some pleased sounds of his own.

But there’s no concept of how long Noctis is laying there, spent and gasping, before he feels fingers tracing up along his throat, over his jaw, and then around into his hair. The blindfold is being undone. He’s grateful when it drops away for the dim lights in the room, because even they make his eyes ache for a moment while they adjust.

He’s rewarded, though, because the sight before him is nothing short of electrifying. Silver has his pants open, down around his knees. He’s knelt there, his cock lying heavy and hard, flush against his belly. His shirt his hiked up some to avoid the mess of precome stringing below his navel. He looks like a gift, like he’s offering himself up as some perfect reward for Noctis’s obedience. And Noct is hungry for him.

“My turn now.” It isn’t a question, when Noctis is moving and flipping Silver in one fell swoop, getting him pinned back to those pillows. He attacks him with a line of kisses down his throat, with teeth that graze over his clavicle. There’s gasping beneath him, but he isn’t stopped. Instead, hands grasp at his back, nails drag down his spine, down old scars that are, in a rare moment, forgotten. 

His hand wraps around Silver’s cock and he doesn’t waste time. He isn’t going to draw it out, not like what was done for him. And maybe he should, maybe he should return that favor of an orgasm that left him shaken, trembling, mindless. But he can’t, because the man looks so good, feels so ready. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” Noctis is moving his hand quick, dipping his thumb, spreading the slick all over. Silver makes a noise, something so small and helpless and  _ cute  _ that it takes Noctis’s breath away. And, soon enough, he’s spilling over Noct, hot and thick spurts that coat his hand and drip onto Silver’s belly and look so good that Noctis can’t help it. He dips down, licks away the mess that pools beneath Silver’s navel. He relishes in the bitter, sticky musk. And then he collapses at his side, indulges in a few kisses at freckles shoulders while Silver comes down.

Noctis can’t say how long they stay there, laying next to each other, heaving chests and heat radiating. Silver slings an arm across his waist at one point and Noctis feels heavy, exhausted, between lazy kisses they share. It feels oddly more intimate than anything that just happened and he feels his heart swelling dangerously. He shouldn’t be feeling this way—he  _ can’t  _ be feeling this way. He has a throne to worry about, a reputation. He can’t be laying here, picturing Silver in his own bed. Hell, he doesn’t even know the guy’s real name. And he absolutely can’t share his own. 

So why are his thoughts about taking him out of here? Why does he want to share dinner, share dessert, share far more moments in far less questionable places? It’s just sex, he reminds himself. It’s just easy, no-strings release. So why the hell is everything else so damn appealing.

“You okay?” His face must betray something of his thoughts, because Silver comments on it. Noctis is quick to smile, to shake his head a little as if that might clear his entirely inappropriate thoughts.

“‘m fine,” he murmurs, his eyes casting over Silver in appreciation, “just thinking.”

“About me, I hope.” It’s a quick, smirking quip. It makes Noctis feel like he’s floating.

“How could I think about anything else?”           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your kind words are my lifeblood and I can't thank everyone enough. <3 
> 
> Check us out elsewhere:  
> @thatdest on twitter  
> @swordlilyebony on twitter or swordliliesandebony on tumblr.


	4. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis doesn't know what's worse: the increasingly sexual fantasies, or the utterly domestic thoughts that accompany them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iiiiit's a dest day! <3 
> 
> got some mirror sex going on. well. "sex." i have a great plan ahahaha!

There’s no point in telling himself that he’s not going to end up back at Alter Ego this week. Noctis already knows he is--and fuck, he can’t stop _thinking_ about Silver.

 

He doesn’t know what’s worse, the fantasies (increasingly dirtier, increasingly more _frantic),_ or the idle thoughts that drift through his head at the worst of moments. In the middle of some dumb, important meeting with a diplomat? He’s wondering what Silver would be like, outside of the walls of the club. He’s thinking about his laugh, about the quick tongue, about the words that _challenge_ him in a way Noct’s never been challenged before.

 

He’s used to people making things easy on him. He’s used to everyone getting all tripped up on titles and status. It’s nothing like Silver.

 

Noct’s nervous as hell, though. He’s shifting his weight uncomfortably from side to side, and he shouldn’t be this upset.

 

One thing became clear: he can’t hide behind a mask forever. Another thing is clear: he can’t be figured out. If anyone catches wind that the crown prince himself is frequenting a seedy club and having anonymous sex, it’s game over. But… Noctis knows that the more he hides, the more he makes it obvious he doesn’t want to be discovered, the more _overt_ it is that he has a lot to hide.

 

He fucking hates it, honestly.

 

There’s dark glasses pushed up his face, and his hair’s swept over his face, just enough to hide the normally distinguished features. In the dim light of the club - he looks like just another body, right? There’s nobody who will make the connection between anonymous stranger and _future king of the entire nation._ And with a club this exclusive, that vets people so thoroughly before accepting the hefty membership fee? Nobody will say anything, even if they _do_ notice. Certainly Silver won’t, right?

 

“Show time,” Noctis mumbles to himself. He gives his reflection a one-over, and he’s certain that with his eyes obscured, with the hoodie he’s got drawn up over his head, and the tight, dark-washed jeans… well, he might still be suspicious. But it’s not a mask, at least, right?

 

\---

 

The fear dissipates as soon as Noct’s surrounded by music and sweaty bodies dancing. He squeezes his way through the crowd - and it’s dark enough in here, electricity surging in the air, that nobody really notices him, after all. That puts him at ease a little bit.

 

Still, Noct tucks his hood a little higher as he makes his way to the bar. And, maybe, people are used to not wanting to be recognized, because if the bartender thinks it’s weird, as he orders his drink, there’s no indication of that.

 

And _maybe_ Noct really is getting braver, because this time? He’s the one who spots Silver first. He sees the mop of styled blonde hair first - and the smattering of freckles over bare shoulders second, as the lithe figure sways in time with the music.

 

Noct goes in for the kill. He can’t help it.

 

Silver’s wearing a loose-fitting tank top tonight, one that hugs his hips perfectly and flows in time with the movement of his body. His pants are tight - as always - and Noctis groans at the sight of him. He should be concerned with the sudden _surge_ of frantic jealousy when another body sways too close - and he’s moving, before he can focus on that too much.

 

Noct can’t hold back the self-satisfied smirk, either, when he sneaks up on the other man from behind. His arms curl around Silver’s waist, and the blonde _jumps,_ before craning his neck, getting a good look at who’s snuck up on him.

 

“... might wanna warn me next time, buddy,” Silver teases, relaxing instantly in his arms when he realizes who he’s dealing with. Noct’s a little concerned that he sees through the disguise as quickly as he does, but - then again, Silver’s used to seeing him in the mask. It’s not quite so different.

 

“Mmm, that a confession that I snuck up on you?” Noctis replies, and he’s smirking lazily. Silver’s body is swaying in time with the music, and the blonde wiggles his hips a little, pressing back into Noct’s strong chest. A hand slides down to tangle their fingers together, and for a moment, the whole world fades into the background. For a moment, it’s just the two of them, bodies pressed together and moving in a rhythm all of their own.

 

Silver laughs softly, though, and draws back a little, and the moment is broken.

 

“Like I’m _ever_ gonna make it that easy for you,” he says, and Noct’s own smirk widens. He can’t help it; he’s impossibly drawn to the blonde. It’s magnetic, how easy their connection is--and fuck, he almost wishes that they’d met anywhere but _here._ Of course, circumstances can’t be changed, and Noct’s status can’t be helped, and here they are.

 

He doesn’t wanna think. So, when Silver offers his hand, Noctis reaches out, and he laces their fingers together. He gives a good, rough squeeze, and he lets Silver lead the way.

 

Noct’s becoming more familiar with the place, and he doesn’t know what that says about him, as a person, as _the future King._ The maze of private chambers is starting to become navigable though, and Noct’s own confidence, too, is growing.

 

That much becomes apparent when, as they turn down a hallway, one of the empty rooms they pass draws Noct’s attention. He stops, head tipped to the side, and Silver - a step ahead, as always, hips swaying and that tantalizing ass wiggling - pauses, looking over his shoulder.

 

“You okay?” he asks softly. “... you look like a mess today, you know.”

 

Noctis laughs a little and rolls his eyes, though it’s not like SIlver can see that, from behind the ridiculous, oversized shades. His hood is pulled up tight, and he knows he’s dressed down. It’s a miracle _anyone_ wants to fuck him like this, especially a cute little blonde who could have his pick of anyone in the damn club.

 

“You’re charming,” Noctis replies, but he nods in the direction of the unoccupied room to the side. “... that one.”

 

Silver’s gaze follows Noct’s, and for a moment, the blonde doesn’t speak. Then, his eyes narrow and an evil little smile quirks on his lips. He spins on his heel, and tugs Noctis into the unoccupied room. The door clicks shut behind them, and moments later, their lips meet in a rough, frantic kiss.

 

Noct’s been waiting all fucking week for this. He’s dreamed of Silver’s lips on his, and the blonde never disappoints. Fuck, they’ve only done this a few times, and already, he’s had so many orgasms at the mercy of the image of the blonde in his mind. Silver _knows_ how to kiss, and teeth dig into his lip, a tongue delves into his mouth and practically pushes down his throat. He’s aggressive, and needy, and already, Noctis can feel the press of a half-hard cock against his thigh.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis groans against Silver’s lips as they part, “you’re eager tonight, huh?”

 

Noct can’t help the way his hand slips down between them, the way he palms over Silver’s cock. The blonde gasps, and moans, hips grinding into the touch, and fuck, there’s a little damp spot where the head of his cock is pressed against the fabric of his pants.

 

“Been a long week,” Silver shudders, “... fuck, I was hoping you’d be here tonight.”

 

The confession is the first _real_ words spoken between them about this, whatever it is. It’s establishing that there’s something, some sort of connection, and Noctis shudders. He doesn’t know what to say. Is there anything to say?

 

“Like I’d miss it,” he responds, lightly, and he goes in for another kiss.

 

The room Noct’s selected, the one that drew his attention from the hallway, it’s a smaller room than usual. There’s a plush leather couch, expensive and rich, in the corner, and it’s otherwise largely unfurnished. The unique aspect of the room, though, and the reason Noctis wanted it - the walls are all mirrors, full-length, running from floor to ceiling. They’re beautifully polished, and like this, he can get a full view of the blonde from every angle.

 

Noctis appreciates it as he goes in for another kiss. He can see the gorgeous, plush swell of Silver’s ass as a hand slips around to give a good, proper squeeze. The blonde _likes_ being manhandled, and a quiet moan vibrates against Noct’s lips.

 

The lighting is dim, as always, but it doesn’t matter. Noct gets a good handful of Silver’s ass, and roughly digs his fingers in, pulling the blonde closer. The hard bulge of Silver’s cock grinds against his - his boots don’t have much of a heel for once - and the friction makes Noctis moan. He gives Silver’s ass another rough palming, draws his hand back - and, watching, with lust-darkened eyes, Noct’s hand connects with a heavy _crack._

 

It’s instinct, that Silver will like it like this - and Noct’s absolutely not disappointed. The blonde gasps, and his cock outright jumps and swells up between them. The moan that escapes Silver’s lips is outright slutty, dirty sinful and it goes right to Noct’s own erection.

 

“... fuck,” Noctis curses, and his hand connects a second time, on the opposite cheek now. Silver’s still clothed, but fuck, he’s imagining the red, swollen handprint-shaped marks on his pale, freckled skin. He wants _more._ Noctis wants to bend Silver over the throne, to fuck him there and claim him in front of all of Lucis. He wants him in his bed, in his _life,_ at his side --

 

Noct can’t keep thinking this way.

 

“Yeah,” Silver groans, interrupting his thoughts anyway, “fuck. You wanna?”

 

Noctis blinks. They’ve messed around a lot. They went from _nothing_ to weird and kinky in a matter of seconds, but they haven’t _actually_ done the deed. God, though, he wants to. His erection agrees, straining against the front of his pants, wet at the tip from a smear of precome.

 

Discretion is important, but everyone at the club is screened and vetted, and fuck, there’s a basket full of condoms and packets of lubricant on the little table next to the couch. Noctis takes a few steps backwards, until his knees bump the edge of the couch, and he sinks down eagerly.

 

Silver goes down with him, outright crawling into his lap. The blonde’s arms loop around his neck, and their lips connect in a kiss that’s all fire and burning passion. Noctis thinks, maybe, he’d love to have Silver bent over the edge of the couch, or on his hands and knees. He _thinks_ it, but the hot reality is that already, the blonde’s taking control. Already, Silver’s grinding their cocks together, he’s breaking the kiss and tipping his head back and _moaning._

 

And already, Noct’s letting him take the initiative.

 

“You need to get rid of these stupid things,” Silver moans, as he goes in for another kiss, his forehead bumping against the stupid sunglasses Noct’s still wearing. His hood is still drawn, too, though it’s falling back a little. Dark, mussed hair falls over Noct’s forehead, and he shudders as he looks at the blonde.

 

“I can’t,” Noctis replies softly, though he’s not very convincing, because there’s hot friction on his cock again, as Silver offers another slutty little roll of his hips. He’s achingly hard, and it’s uncomfortable how tight his clothing is, how wet and sticky he feels.

 

“... you got something to hide, Gold?” Prompto murmurs, and now his lips are tracing over Noct’s jaw. His hands are pulling the hood down, though, so his fingers can tangle in Noct’s soft, dark hair, and Noctis can’t find the restraint to stop him. Fuck, he’s bracing a hand on the couch and lifting his hips up, getting more delicious contact between them. It’s a twisting, searing knot of _need_ in his belly, and his muscles are clenching, his thighs trembling from the effort.

 

“Just shy?” Noctis offers back, and he knows it’s not convincing. He laughs, steals another kiss. “... gotta keep up the mystery.” It’s a bad excuse. They both know it.

 

Silver laughs though. His fingers play over the rim of Noct’s glasses, but he leaves them on, grinding his hips down again. They _both_ moan, and there’s an evil little nip at Noct’s throat. He sighs, tipping his head back and offering up more delicious skin for the other to mark. Fuck, he wants to be _marked._ He’ll have to hide it, with high collars and makeup, but it’s absolutely fucking worth it.

 

Silver lifts up again, and this time, he’s pulling himself up onto his knees. Everything with this stupid blonde is a show, and getting naked is absolutely no exception. Noct’s fingers itch to touch - but he’s not the one in charge. With a quick, fluid motion, Silver’s pulling his tank top over his head and tossing it aside. All exposed like this - plush chest, gorgeous, peaked nipples, that dusting of freckles over his shoulders, dotting down along his ribcage and smattering his toned, belly - he looks so fucking perfect. Noctis can’t look away.

 

“ ‘m gonna make you forget everything,” Silver promises, with a smirk, as his fingers idly play with the band of his pants. He’s teasing, drawing it out and putting on a show. And it’s working, fuck. Noct doesn’t know where to look. He wants to _watch._ He wants to stare into Silver’s eyes - bright, intense, violet-blue and sparkling with mischief - and he wants to watch the way his tongue darts out to lap over plush lips. He wants to see the stiff peaks of his nipples, the ripple of his toned abdomen, the sway of his hips. And, fuck, he wants to watch those fingers peel back the fabric of his tight pants, to watch his aching cock spring free, hard and full against his belly.

 

But there’s all those mirrors, too. If Noctis looks over SIlver’s shoulder, he can see the curve of his spine, delicate but _strong._ He can see the plush swells of his ass, half-hidden by his pants, but slipping down bit by bit to reveal more soft, pale flesh. He wants to knead Prompto’s ass, to spread him open and fuck into him with his fingers - and gods, Noctis wants to watch it all, slow and revarant.

 

He’s glad, really, that it isn’t his show. It’s Silver’s, and the blonde is just letting him come along for the ride. That is hotter than it should be; Noct is learning more and more about himself. Fuck, he’s learning just how much he likes handing control over to someone else.

 

Silver’s cock is _throbbing_ as it springs free and settles against his belly. His ass looks amazing, and he makes a slutty little show of _slowly_ getting his pants off.

 

“You like what you see?” the blonde asks, a smirk playing at his lips again.

 

“Always,” Noctis replies instantly, “fuck, you’re the hottest thing in the whole world.”

 

He tugs Silver in for another kiss, and when the blonde’s hands slide between them to work at his pants in turn, Noct lifts his hips. He sinks his teeth into Silver’s lower lip and _tugs_ when his pants come down, bunching at his thighs.

 

He wants to fuck Silver. Noct absolutely does. Instead, though, they’re panting into each other’s mouths. Instead, impatience wins out, because he reaches between them, swatting Silver’s hand away to curl his own around both their cocks instead. The angle is perfect, the friction amazing, and between the two of them, there’s enough precome slicking his strokes.

 

Like this, Noct can see Silver from every angle. The mirror’s image bounces and reflects off every surface. He can see the strain of every single muscle in the blonde’s body. He can see the way Silver is grinding into the touch, hips rolling and ass bouncing as he rides Noct’s lap. Silver’s spine is a gorgeous curve, arched and perfect, and his skin is pale, ethereal in the dim light. Fuck, it’s hot. How is this creature even _alive?_

 

“Fuck, don’t stop, _Gold,_ I wanna come for you--” Silver gasps, his head tossing back as the kiss breaks again. He’s getting frantic; they both are. Noct’s skin is slick with sweat, his hand is a sticky mess as more wetness smears over his fingers. He fists both their cocks, teases the tip of Silver’s, feels more slick ooze from the slit. Noct wants to stop, wants to lift the blonde up over his cock, wants to sink into the tight heat of his ass and let this slutty little blonde properly ride him but--

 

But, instead, suddenly, Noct’s tossing his head back. His hips buck up into the touch, his hand is moving nonstop, and he’s coming. He’s spurting his release over his fingertips, and an instant later - a fucking heartbeat, if anything - and Silver’s coming too. They’re coming _together,_ from nothing more than a shitty handjob in a mirrored room, and it’s _perfect._

 

Noct’s head falls forward, suddenly exhausted, and he presses his forehead into Silver’s shoulder. He feels the glasses dislodge from the bridge of his nose, feels them slip forward--and in his exhausted stupor, as the surge of orgasm leaves him breathless and limp and so perfectly satisfied, he doesn’t care.

 

Hell, Noctis reaches between them, lazily tugging his shitty, half-assed disguise off his face. He presses kisses into Prompto’s shoulder, tastes the salty tang of sweat and chases each individual freckle. And, he knows, that he’s visible in the mirrors that line the walls. He’s _visible,_ so fucking exposed and vulnerable.

 

It feels good. Better than good.

 

“... that wasn’t much of a fuck,” Silver laughs softly, but his cock is softening between them. There’s so much mess, their come ruining Noct’s shirt and painting their bellies white. It’s all teasing, all a part of the game, the easy banter that falls between them.

 

“Next time,” Noctis promises in response, before he can consider the implications. He lifts his head, and this time, they finally look at each other. It’s the first time that they’re both fully revealed--and there’s a pang of sudden anxiety as Noctis worries that Silver will recognize him. That he’ll remember all the tabloids, all the stupid articles and websites and dumbass paparrazi photos that have plagued Noct’s entire life.

 

There’s a moment where there’s a flicker of some sort of recognition, a glimmer of something, and Noct feels like he’s going to puke. But, then--

 

“How the hell is my mystery man so fucking gorgeous?” Silver asks, and he laughs breathlessly, stealing another kiss. This one is long, lingering, _too affectionate_ to be just sex, but Noctis isn’t entertaining that. “Fuck. I’ll see you next week, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, instantly, and he’s relieved, so fucking happy that they’ve moved on to making plans, to being something just a little more than what they were before. And that, of course, is the most dangerous part.

 

“I’ll be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, you know where to find us! i'm on twitter @thatdest! 
> 
> my partner in crime is on twitter @ swordlilyebony ; swordliliesandebony @ tumblr. 
> 
> please continue to send your love and feedback our way! i love getting the comment notifications and i just switched roles at my job, so honestly your kind words are getting me thru my day! <3


	5. Suspension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beautiful woman, bound for display. A pair of men, bound for disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? A chapter with some plot? Uh oh!

It’s a themed night, which means that Noctis is coming face-to-face with a hefty door fee when he enters Alter Ego. His status, his  _ title _ , promises that this is by no means prohibitive, but he can’t help but wonder about Silver. It’s not the first time he’s come to the realization that he knows nothing at all about the guy. Well, that’s not fair. He knows he has a fabulous ass and some  _ very  _ interesting tastes. He knows, above all that, that he wants to know more. It’s one hell of a problem to have.

Noctis never pictured himself as the type who would fall into the arms of a mysterious stranger. But he never pictured himself as the type who would be spending an endless string of weekends at a sex club, either. Maybe Silver isn’t the only one he’s (hopefully) learning more about here. He hasn’t been thinking too much about his own newly-found pleasures, though. He’s been thinking about Silver, thinking about who he really is and what he does and how  _ he  _ ended up a regular in the same walls.

He still keeps discretion in mind upon entering Alter Ego, though this time he at least has the excuse of poor weather for his tightly-drawn hood. Rain has been beating down all day and the temperature has dropped accordingly. Fall, it would seem, is finally seeing fit to make an appearance, and it’s going all in. He keeps with the sunglasses—he isn’t the only one to use this disguise—though they’re forgotten once he pays the doorman and enters properly.

It’s darker than he’s used to, even in the ever-dim lighting. When he passes from the lobby into the dancefloor, there are no strobing lights, no pulsing music. Instead, there's the low rumble of music that he can only think of as deeply erotic. It's an esoteric sound, all heavy low drums and hints of string. The light is focused on a single raised platform and, more specifically, the woman suspended above it.

Noctis is entranced. 

He doesn't linger immediately at the bar as has become his custom. Instead, he shoulders his way through a few stragglers to join the thick of the crowd surrounding the display. The woman is undeniably beautiful, all black leather and curves beneath the thick red rope that crisscrosses near every inch of her. There's a flash of silvery hair as she slowly rotates and Noctis feels his heart stutter at the display. He’s never seen anything like it and he can’t look away.

He can’t look away, that is, until the flash of a camera clicks bright from somewhere across the stage. 

Noctis doesn’t know what draws him so immediately to the light. He isn’t necessarily surprised by the fact that there’s a photographer—the club’s website often features images of consenting performers and participants in an attempt to lure more in. But he still finds himself seeking out the source of the flash and, suddenly, things feel impossibly magnetic again. There’s no mistaking, when he sources the camera, who stands behind it. Silver.

He doesn’t notice Noctis, far to committed to his work behind the lens. And he looks every bit the consummate professional there. He’s dressed simply tonight, in an oversized sweater that hangs from his shoulders and jeans that hug but are hidden by its hem. How the hell is  _ that  _ so alluring? Suddenly, Noctis’s attention is split. The suspended woman keeps dragging his attention back. It’s something in the pose, where she’s curled up and pressed tight by the rope. And it’s something in her eyes, so green that even some feet back and in the dim lighting, he can see the way emerald flashes to the crowd.

But Silver grabs his attention, too, the way he always does.

Noctis has been thinking about him again, though this is nothing new. Noctis feels like he’s been thinking about nothing but Silver in the times between their meetings. It’s dangerous and exciting and it makes his heart race every time. His heart is racing now, between the woman on stage and the fact that his now-usual companion is there documenting her. Is this his job? His hobby? Noctis wants to know every detail. He wants to know where he got the fancy camera, how long he’s been using it to this effect. Does he know the bound woman? Is he the source of the other gorgeous, professional photos on the club’s site?

Noctis’s feelings about Silver have become complicated since their last meeting. Since showing his face properly. Silver had already seen flashes, seen the parts without their whole. But when he removed the glasses, Noctis was sure there had been a flash of recognition, a sliver of familiarity. It’s terrifying. Does he know who Noctis really is? If he does, the camera is suddenly a threat rather than a new, interesting detail to try and uncover. He could so easily snap a few shots of Noctis, watching the woman at work, and sell them for more money than an average person might ever see.

But, somehow, Noctis doesn’t think Silver will do that. Perhaps he’s being naive. That’s a lot of trust to put into someone who he only knows within the confines of this club, who he mostly knows with his pants shoved down around his ankles, all flush and eager for attention. That thought doesn’t do much to help the anxiety that’s been swirling through Noct’s mind.

He tries to look at things logically. If Silver outed him, it would mean more than that he’s something bordering on monstrous. It would mean he would be ousted from the club, as per their rules regarding consent and privacy. Even the photos that are now flashing shot—he swears the flash comes from a different angle each time—would require paperwork and agreements before they were shared. Silver had been coming here presumably long before Noctis hit the scene. He wouldn’t really risk  _ that _ , would he?

Noctis could ask. He could ask  _ easily _ , because as the music is ramping and the show seems to be coming to a close—or at least an intermission—a final photo snaps. It’s close enough that Noctis can hear the whirring of a focus before the click of a shutter. He realizes he’s standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Silver. He shouldn’t suddenly be smiling. He shouldn’t be feeling so giddy, as if any attention was paid to him at all, but he can’t help it. There are absolutely butterflies bursting around his belly, and he can’t fight back the expression they bring.

“You came. Wasn’t sure you’d be here tonight.” Silver has his own smile when he speaks and Noctis can’t help but be entranced by that, too. There are people still watching the display, even as the spotlight has dimmed and the floor lights raised. Attendants are helping the bound woman from her restraints and Noctis has the distinct feeling that there are a good number of people who find the heavy pink marks crossing her body especially appealing. He might find them appealing too, he realizes, if they were on another certain someone’s skin.

“We already talked about it.” Noctis points out, and he immediately feels stupid for doing so. Their ‘plan’ to meet had been little more than a ‘see you next time’. There was no concrete detail, no promise that next time would be next week or next month. There wasn’t even a real promise, given the lack of strings, given the absence of communication otherwise, that next time would  _ ever  _ come.    

“True. But you can’t blame me for thinking my knight in gold armor might have something better to do on a Friday night.” Silver seems...relieved in his joke. And Noctis, well, he smiles again in that way where he doesn’t mean to. He likes being referred to that way, close to the name that Silver has given him, clearly a play on it as he’s donned in his typical dressy black attire. 

“There is nothing in the world I’d rather be doing than you.” Noctis doesn’t manage to keep a straight face, but he hasn’t managed that since Silver shouldered up next to him. He doesn’t laugh through the absolutely overt bit of flirtation either, which he takes as a point of pride. Silver laughs at him though—an adorable, delicate sound that Noctis still can’t get enough of—then goes horribly serious. It wipes that accidental smile right from his lips.

“I’m afraid it’ll have to wait this time,” Silver’s voice drips apology and, as if on cue, a voice cuts from nearby.

“Silver! You’ve got an hour before the late show!” Noctis isn’t sure where the voice comes from, but he’s sure he hates it. And he’s sure that’s an entirely inappropriate response to have. Silver has been here longer. He’s already had a name to go with his presence. So why does Noct’s belly burn with an entirely unwarranted sort of  _ possession  _ when somebody else uses it? He tries to catch the speaker, but it’s a lost cause in the crowd. 

Now that the stage has been cleared, the music is beginning to pulse and thump again and onlookers are quickly turning themselves to somewhat clumsy dancers. Noctis feels someone bump into him from behind and he’s jostled closer to Silver. Not a complaint there, though he suddenly wants very much to get off the dancefloor. He suddenly wants very much to get Silver into one of those rooms for a quickie—they could make it happen in well under the time he needs to prepare for this  _ late show _ that’s stealing him away.

“On the clock tonight?” Noctis asks, and he doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment. It makes Silver look appropriately guilty, which makes Noctis  _ feel  _ appropriately guilty. He shifts from one foot to the other and wonders what happens next. Is this the extent of their meeting this week? A quick ‘hey, how’s it goin’, sorry I can’t fuck you’?

“Something like that,” Silver sighs and shakes his head, “I’m sorry, Gold. I totally forgot it was bondage night. I agreed to work photos  _ months  _ ago and I couldn’t get out. I really didn’t mean—”

“—Hey. Don’t worry about it.” Noctis cuts him off because Silver is suddenly talking very quickly, rambling even. He didn’t mean to evoke the anxious response and he really does feel badly. Sure, he would rather be doing something a lot more interesting, but he’s glad just to see the guy. He definitely isn’t admitting  _ that _ out loud, though.

“Let me buy you a couple drinks, at least? I have some time to kill. Just...not in the fun way. They’d throw me out on my ass if I did that while I’m on a gig.” He flashes a smile, still apologetic, but when he reaches his hand out to Noctis, Noctis takes it without hesitation. Sharing a round or two with Silver feels suddenly like the new thing he most wants to do in the world.

The bar is crowded when they make their way over to it—far too much so to get a stool. So Silver tells Noctis to snag a private booth (he’s to tell the man monitoring them that Silver is the patron) and he’ll bring the drinks. It’s a bit of an awkward go, but Noctis manages to get the words out and the psuedo-bouncer motions him over toward a cozy table in a corner. It’s a little bit cramped, but Noctis isn’t mourning the proximity it promises. There’s a little electric candle in the center of the table and the curved booth is overstuffed black leather. Everything considered, it’s pretty nice and it really does afford some level of privacy.

It speaks to Silver’s attention to detail that, when he returns with their round, he has Noct’s preferred drink in hand. Something about the fact makes Noctis smile again, and when they share a toast he’s fighting off more butterflies. It doesn’t  _ mean  _ anything, Noctis tells himself. He also tries to tell himself that he wouldn’t have remembered that Silver prefers a cosmopolitan, a little heavy on the cranberry. 

“Y’know, Gold. I’m kinda surprised. Didn’t know this would be your kinda thing.” Silver starts the conversation by way of this musing and it leaves Noctis just a touch confused. His head tilts to the side and his expression dims for a moment. He swirls the twin straws around in his drink and shrugs.

“You calling me vanilla or something?” It’s a tease, but the delivery is deadpan and the look on Silver’s face tells him that he doesn’t necessarily take it that way.

“I don’t know a damn thing about you other than that I wouldn’t guess you’re  _ that _ ,” Silver laughs and regains whatever he had momentarily lost. The way he says  _ that _ almost makes it feel like vanilla is some sort of dirty word. Maybe, around here, it is. Noctis can’t imagine anyone without some...eclectic tastes…would be frequenting a spot like this, after all. “I guess I mean the girl. Or the public show. I dunno, you seem like a pretty private guy.”

Silver doesn’t know the half of it.

“I’m gonna level with you,” Noctis turns his voice as serious as he can manage and his face follows. Silver suddenly looks a notch more invested in the conversation, which isn’t by any means saying he was floating along before, “I have to be discrete. If someone learned my secret identity, it could ruin me.” It’s the truth, but after Noctis says it he makes a point of laughing and the tension that had grown in Silver’s face drains away until he’s laughing too.

“I always knew there was something about you, Gold. Didn’t figure you were a mob dude or a superhero or royalty or something.” Noctis could swear that, just for a moment, Silver’s eyes narrow. It makes his breath catch, makes his heart stop in his chest.  _ He knows _ , his mind screams. He took off those glasses last time and Silver recognized him and he’s saying it now that he  _ knows _ , “Don’t worry, dude. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Silver still has the lilt of laughter in his voice and Noctis doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s sure his own expression has gone tight, as if he needed to make it as obvious as possible that Silver is on to him. He takes a deep breath, does it as discreetly as possible, and drains a good portion of his drink. 

“I guess I have no choice but to trust you,” Noctis endeavors to make his voice sound conspiratorial more than shaken. He’s not sure he succeeds. 

“You don’t already? Wow, dude, I’m hurt.” It’s obviously a tease, but somehow Noctis feels his heart sink at it. He wants to say that he trusts Silver implicitly, that he wouldn’t have come back if he didn’t. But that’s taking it too far and it’s not entirely the truth. He still has his doubts. He’s been bred and raised to have those doubts. Those doubts are what keep him going. Those doubts are what  _ should  _ keep him from going to Alter Ego.

“I told you, I have to be careful,” Noctis does manage to make his words sound teasing again this time, a stark relief to the stumbles he’d been making, “and I know nothing about you. You could be a secret spy, trying to set me up.”

“Do spies  _ usually  _ make you feel this good? I might hafta get into your line of work.” There’s a certain sparkle behind Silver’s eyes and it makes Noctis’s breath catch. The banter like this is bringing him to life. It makes him feel like he’s riding the edge of a knife, like he needs to focus to keep up. Like the haze of drink, sucked down a little too quickly, only adds to the challenge. 

“Dunno. Are you saying you are one?” Noctis counters, and now it’s easy to smile again.

“I’m an open book, man. Nothing that interesting to read, though.” He shrugs, but it’s an invitation to ask more if Noctis has ever heard one. And he wants to know more. He wants to know everything there is to know about Silver. He wants to know his life story, his hopes and dreams. Fuck, he wants to know his real name, and he wants it with a burning. He knows he can’t ask that, not with the impossibility of revealing his own. He starts at, he thinks, the beginning.

“What do you do for a living?” He can’t answer that question himself either, but he never said he could, never said that he was a similarly open book. Maybe it adds an air of mystery. He thinks it’s probably just frustrating.

“This.” Silver gestures to his camera, bagged up and sitting beside him on the booth, “Sometimes here. I have a studio, too. Boudoir photos, usually. If it ain’t sexy it ain’t me.” He laughs and shakes his head, “Unless the money’s right.”

“That still sounds pretty sexy,” Noctis points out with a smirk. This time, when their drinks empty, a cocktail waitress comes and takes their order for more. Noctis makes a point of grabbing this round, though Silver protests heavily to it.

“Is that really all you wanted to know?” Silver cocks his head and Noctis realizes just how serious he was being. It’s...more butterflies, if he’s being perfectly honest. Maybe he  _ could  _ ask his name. Maybe he could ask him anything at all. He’s suddenly a bundle of nerves though, trying to work out the right question, trying to seek out the right answer. He’s not very good at it.

“How long have you been coming here?” Silver shrugs in response to this question. He thanks the waitress when she returns—incredibly quickly, perhaps a boon to the private booth held for him—with their drinks and he takes a moment to sip his.

“I didn’t really mark the date. They contract me to do stuff like this. The membership was part of my package.” Noctis is a little bit surprised by this information. He had somehow assumed that Silver had found the place, joined and enjoyed on his own volition. To know that it’s part of some employment benefits is, frankly, a small shock.

“So you wouldn’t have come here if they weren’t paying you to?” Silver laughs at the question.

“I wouldn’t have even known about the place if they didn’t pay me to. I’m thinking you’re really asking how much time I spend here, and with who. Am I close?” Noctis sputters at the returned question but Silver simply laughs, “I’ve had a few other partners, but nothing more than a night here or there. I usually spend my time right here. It’s kinda the best people-watching ever, y’know?” 

“Is that what you were doing with me?” Noctis asks, feeling a little bit back on his feet, a little bit more open with his second drink well on the way to, well, drank. “People watching.”

“I was definitely watching.” Silver laughs and he lets his head fall to the side a little, cushioned by his hand, elbow on the table. “I saw you run into that bathroom like your life depended on it. Very mysterious. I’m glad you didn’t just have a bit of the stomach flu, because that was totally a worry on my part.” They both share a laugh and a silence falls between them.

It’s an easy sort of quiet and Noctis enjoys it. He feels Silver’s hand reach for his own beneath the table and he lets him take it. It’s oddly intimate and Noctis doesn’t know entirely what to make of it. This is the most conversation the two of them have ever had. It’s the only conversation, save a few quips in the bathroom, that isn’t directly related to what they’re about to be—or already are—doing to each other. He enjoys it immensely; far more than he has any right to.

He doesn’t know how long the silence stretches, but it must be a little while. Their drinks are finished again. When the waitress comes back once more, Silver only orders another for Noctis. His stomach drops a little bit, as he can already see what’s happening next. It seems so quick, like they’d only just sat down, when Silver says it.

“I have to start setting up. You should watch the next show. Big guy,  _ real _ nice lookin’. Seeing a dude like that submit…it’s worth checking out.” Noctis nods, though he’s far more interested in continuing this conversation than he is in seeing a large man bound on stage. He opens his mouth, closes it, considers his options before he speaks.

“I’ll see you again, right?” He tries not to sound too dejected. Silver smiles at him though and he nudges him, his forearm pressing playfully into Noctis’s shoulder.

“You’ll see me after unless you make some grand escape. And, yes, you’ll see me after tonight, too.” Noctis pretends that these words don’t have an effect on him, but the smile twitches at his lips again and he’s helpless to hide it. Silver seems to brighten again himself with that expression, “There you go. Wait for me, alright?”

Noctis doesn’t say that he would wait forever for him, but he suddenly very much feels like he would. Silver goes to stand, but Noctis doesn’t release his hand, squeezes it instead.

“Wait, one more question? Just in case…” He doesn’t plan on leaving without talking to Silver again, but liquid courage is running through his veins and he isn’t going to let this question go unasked. Silver stops, half-stood, and cocks his head.

“Your phone number. Can I have it?”

Silver sits back down.              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter today, but we're working hard to keep the post schedule going and work makes it a bit difficult! We all knew plot would start sneaking in, so I hope y'all aren't too disappointed that things didn't get super steamy.
> 
> As always you can find me @swordlilyebony on twitter (which I'm too old and crusty to know how to use) or swordliliesandebony.tumblr.com
> 
> My partner in dirty, dirty, dirty crimes is @thatdest on twitter!


	6. A Firm Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's starting to feel like their little Alter Ego meetings are proper dates, and Noctis doesn't want to entertain the implications of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so in case you haven't noticed, we started doing the prompts out of order. i went with massages this time~
> 
> also: apologies that we fell behind on the daily updates. i 100% take blame for that, i was absolutely slammed this weekend with a friend staying at my place from out of town, a full disneyland day (first world problems, i know), and then a half marathon. we'll hopefully catch up with a couple of double updates somewhere. <3 anyway, enjoy!

Noctis is aware that there’s a certain level of shame that comes with his current status: sitting in the corner of a sex club, trying to blend into the background. He’s been nursing the drink that Silver grabbed for him until the ice melted and it’s a weak, watery mess. There’s a display going on behind him, though it’s not the one that’s summoned away his Silver Sunshine (as Noct’s started to think of him).

 

He’s curious, but… Noctis is realizing, very quickly, that he doesn’t come to this club for the kinky shit. The kinky shit is _nice,_ he has to admit, but the scene behind him – they’ve replaced the soft curves and elaborate ropework for a leather-clad man, gagged and bound, suspended in an expensive looking contraption -  just doesn’t do anything for Noct. It makes him think of how _good_ Silver might look, if he was at Noct’s mercy that way, but…

 

Noct’s phone in his pocket feels like a heavier weight than usual. He wants to slip his hand in, to tug his phone out and send a text to the new contact in there. It’s his private phone – a burner, so that nobody can trace it back to the source – but there’s still a thrill of fear. Silver has to know, doesn’t he?

 

What if he’s given Noct a fake number? He _wants_ to text. He wants to know that this isn’t all an awful, fucked up dream. Because currently, the idea of actually seeing Silver outside of the walls of Alter Ego is… enticing, thrilling, and totally everything Noct knows he shouldn’t be pushing for.

 

He _knows_ it’s a bad idea. There’s no place for someone like Silver in Noct’s real life. And he doesn’t care, for once. He _can’t_ care.

 

A part of Noctis wants to leave the safety of the booth, but – there’d been a distinct pang of _jealousy,_ watching the blonde so at ease in the club. His words repeat in Noct’s mind: he hasn’t had any partners, no repeats, nothing until Noctis had found his way here. Silver’s had his eye on him since the moment he’d stepped foot in the club. _Why?_ Maybe his identity has never really been a secret, or…

 

Or, maybe, just _maybe,_ the connection Noctis is feeling goes both ways.

 

That’s a terrifying concept.

 

Noctis sighs and tips back the rest of his drink. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He waves off the cute attendant who comes to check on him, and slides a little further back into the dark, plush booth. This night was—eventful, in all the ways Noctis doesn’t expect, and he should probably go home.

 

Of course, then his phone vibrates in his pocket, and Noctis almost drops the damn thing in his effort to pull it out. The screen’s brightness is turned down, but in club’s aesthetic, it’s still _blindingly bright._

 

He’d let Silver enter his own number in. The man had simply used the nickname, accompanied by a heart and a splash emoji, which… is both horrible and _incredibly_ accurate. Noctis wants to know his real name. He also knows that, now that he has the number, he could _probably_ do some digging with his resources and find it. Fuck, he could probably _ask._ He doesn’t, though, and Noct doesn’t know what’s holding him back. Maybe he just likes the game; likes the anonymity that allows him to hide from reality a little longer.

 

_‘you still here?’_ the text reads.

 

Noctis nearly mangles his response in his haste to reply, and it’s honestly got nothing to do with the alcohol. _‘same place’_ he thumbs out.

 

_‘omw’_

It’s a simple response, but suddenly, Noct’s full of nervous energy, practically bouncing in his seat. And, sure enough, it’s not long before the familiar blonde is weaving his way through the VIP area and sliding back down into the cushioned booth next to Noctis. Their shoulders bump, and Silver is grinning, but he looks exhausted. It’s not the usual blissed out, sated exhaustion either – it’s obvious he’s been working.

 

Noctis likes the look. It makes him think of how Silver would look coming home to him after a long day of work, ready to crawl into bed with him, to get his arms wrapped tight around his waist.

 

“You off the clock yet?” Noctis asks softly.

 

Silver grins, and gives him an evil little nudge. “You waited around _that_ long to get laid? I’m flattered, dude.”

 

It’s easier, of course, to pretend that it’s all about the sex. Noctis doesn’t dare raise the point that honestly? He’s given up on thinking that he’s getting any action tonight, with Silver on the job. He’s simply been hoping for more moments like _this one,_ and that’s infinitely more dangerous. As bad as it is for the future monarch of the nation to be frequenting a club for casual sex… it’s far worse for him to have developed _feelings_ for… well, someone he _met_ at said club.

 

“I don’t normally wait around. You’re just _that_ good, I guess,” Noctis replies lazily, crossing his arms cross his chest and leaning back in his seat. It’s teasing, but there’s a good deal of sincerity in the words and he knows it’s obvious. It’s obvious, with how Noct’s shifting, taking the initiative. He’s had enough alcohol to feel brave – but not enough to be _drunk –_ and the close proximity makes it easy. An arm curls around Silver’s waist, fingers dripping idly on his hip.

 

There’s a momentary fear, when Silver tenses just a _little,_ that he’s gonna run, that Noct’s pushed too far. But, instead, the blonde is leaning in, head tipping against his shoulder just for a moment, and Noct’s heart feels like it’s gonna pound right out of his chest.

 

“Still on the clock, to answer your question,” Silver sighs, after a moment. “… I’ll be here _all_ night, dude.”

 

Noctis already suspected that would be the answer. He can’t help the little pang of disappointment, though. And… he doesn’t voice the other thoughts, the increasingly intrusive one that he wouldn’t mind following Silver back to his place (because they can’t go to Noct’s, _fuck),_ the idea that he’d love to get him in bed and _kiss_ him and do things that are… decidedly not kinky. Plain, vanilla, romantic sex? It doesn’t sound half bad.

 

Yeah, Noct’s definitely not saying that.

 

“How late is this thing going?” he asks, instead. Noct realizes that… he’s always left after he and Silver finish up their business and part ways. He’s never stayed later.

 

Silver shrugs. “Five, six? Sun’s usually rising by the time I get outta here on a themed night.”

 

Noctis winces. It’s already nearly two in the morning. They’re starting final call (not that it matters, he’s cut himself off) and he doesn’t have another four hours in him. Already, his head’s starting to spin a little and Noct’s quite ready to get out of the club.

 

“Fuck that,” Noct laughs it off, and tips his head to catch Silver’s gaze, instead. “… okay, new question. How long’s your break now?”

 

The blonde gives him a long, lingering look, and then shifts to check his phone. “Got thirty minutes before I gotta set up. Told you, though, I can’t do anything _fun_ on the clock.” He sighs, tipping his head back and staring up at the ceiling. Silver’s voice is way too fucking casual, and oh the things it _does_ to Noctis. “Fuck, Gold. So many regrets. I’d _love_ to get you all tied up, you know.”

 

Noct bites back the groan at the idea. And, fuck, he can’t help but take the bait.

 

“Who says _I’d_ be the one all tied up, huh?” He laughs, a soft, breathy sound, and leans in, nuzzling their cheeks together. Noct’s been feeling increasingly brave – fuck, he has Silver’s _number_ on his phone, how can he not be feeling confident here? – and the physical affection is… becoming easier. “You’d look good you know. All tied up.”

 

Silver’s grin is decidedly _not_ innocent. He turns a little in his seat, so that they’re properly looking at each other. “Yeah? You been thinking about that all night, haven’t you?”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Noctis scoffs with a roll of his eyes and a good-natured smile. Of course, it’s been _part_ of his thoughts, the idea of Silver’s smooth skin all creased and covered in pink lines from the cord cutting in. And the thought of this ridiculous blonde entirely at his mercy, helpless for his _king…_

Okay. Yeah. Thoughts are definitely going in the wrong direction.

 

“Hey. Just sayin’. _You’re_ the one waiting around for me with my dumb job,” Silver laughs.

 

Noctis gives him a bit of a rougher nudge now. His elbow connects with Silver’s ribs – not hard enough to really _hurt,_ of course – and they both burst into laughter at the implications. It’s stupid, of course. Obviously there’s a good deal of physical attraction between them. They’re like moths to a flame, constantly lured back to the other. Even though Noct doesn’t wanna entertain the idea of Silver with _other_ people—he’s chosen to stay… exclusive, if that’s the correct word, over the past weeks. That has to mean something, right?

 

“Shoots going well, at least?” Noctis asks, because he knows it’s dangerous to keep going down the same hole. He changes the subject, turns the situation easy and casual again.

 

Silver nods, gently patting the camera case he’s wedged between his body and the edge of the booth they’re squished into. “Think so. Got some really good shots.” He grins, but there’s a weariness that edges in, and Noct notices it for the first time. “These shoots can be tricky, though. The lighting can… make it hard. I dunno, Gold. Gonna have to wait and see, once I do some editing.”

 

Noctis nods. He’s fascinated by the prospect of Silver seated in front of his computer, working diligently to master sensual, explicit photos. It must be weird, having that as a job – making people look good, sexy, capturing moments like that. It must be weird, having that as a day job – and hell, it sounds better than Noct’s own job, all stiff expensive suits, all act and carefully chosen words. He’s jealous.

 

“You look kinda tired,” he mumbles softly. “Long night, huh?”

 

Silver nods, and his smile softens. “Dead on my feet. That obvious?”

 

“Not super obvious,” Noctis replies lightly, and he lets the implication of that hang between them, unspoken. The truth is – he’s getting good at figuring Silver out, he thinks. Noct sees through the mask, at the very least, can see the true emotion in the other man’s eyes, etched across his face. He likes it, likes the idea of getting _close._

 

And, fuck, that bravado is gonna be the death of Noctis, because he’s shifting in the seat. He turns to the side, awkwardly swinging his legs off the edge of the booth, leaning back against the wall. “Come here. I wanna help you.”

 

Silver pauses for a moment. “I told you I can’t _do_ anything. And besides, we’d need a room.”

 

Noct rolls his eyes. “Who says this is a sex thing? Trust me, okay?”

 

Another heartbeat of silence, and then. “Yeah,” Silver agrees quietly, “Okay. I trust you, Gold.”

 

The word, _trust,_ it carries a heavier meaning than it should. Obviously they trust each other. There’s a level of engrained trust that comes with fucking someone casually in a situation like this. But… somehow, it means something deeper, in this context. It means this is okay, that this is _good,_ and fuck, Noct’s obsessed with the idea. He’s obsessed with _Silver._ And hell, Noct’s handed his own trust over long ago. He’s given up on a disguise, after all, and he’s letting a photographer – someone who can outright ruin him, if he so chose – see the real him. That’s a lot.

 

Noct’s arm curls tighter around Silver’s waist, and he tugs the man to turn with him, until they’re back-to-chest, until Noct can lean forward just a little and breath hot, whispery words against the shell of Silver’s ear. “You’re tense. ‘m gonna help you relax.”

 

Yeah, a good part of Noctis wants to get Silver in a private room, to tie him up and try out the intricacies of tonight’s particular theme. Another part of him just wants to get down on his knees and get the man off with his tongue and his mouth. A larger part, though, is _just_ where he wants to be right now.

 

His hands carefully slide up over Silver’s shoulders, and the other man _melts_ into the touch. Noct’s never actually given anyone a massage before but – he knows how it works. He’s had years of physio from shit in his past he doesn’t particularly want to think about. They’re in a time of peace, but he’s still had to learn all sorts of weapons training, and he’s had tight, knotted muscles that are so sore, it hurts to walk.

 

So, he’s been on the receiving end. It can’t be that hard, right?

 

Silver’s neck is a tight, corded mess of tension, and when Noct’s fingers dig in, the other man gasps. A hand reaches behind, digging into Noct’s knee, and his head bows forward.

 

“Keep your head up,” Noctis mumbles. “Easier that way.” There’s another little shiver – and then Silver listens, pulling himself upright again. It’s obvious that under the bubbly exterior, under the upright sunny disposition, Silver’s carrying a good weight of stress.

 

It makes sense. Noct knows he’s usually a hot mess of tension during _his_ job (can it be called a job?) and it’s not like they can fire him. Silver doesn’t seem desperate for cash, but Noct’s sure he _needs_ gigs like these to survive.

 

“Stressful night?” Noct’s thumbs are working narrow, concentrated circles at the base of Silver’s neck, slowly easing the tension free. It’s probably that borderline pleasure-pain, because Silver’s gasping, and his nails are cutting through Noct’s pants as he bears it.

 

“A—ah… _little,”_ Silver groans. “Fuck, be gentle, that hurts like a bitch, dude—”

 

“Feels good, though, right?” Noctis teases, and stabs a little _harder,_ feeling an odd sense of satisfaction as the knot finally works free.

 

“… fuck… yeah,” Silver confesses, and he sighs at Noct’s handiwork, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Bending my face over a camera for hours can be rough.”

 

Noctis grins, and he absolutely can’t help it. “Would rather bend your face over something _else_ for hours if you’re looking for somethin’ rough.”

 

Silver groans, and turns his head to give Noct a _look,_ one that he absolutely deserves, but is still infinitely pleasing. “I totally walked into that one, didn’t I?”

 

“Yep,” Noctis agrees lightly. His fingers dance across Silver’s shoulderblades, and start to work there. It’s not as bad as the man’s neck had been, not quite as tight and tense. Idly, Noctis wishes he wasn’t wearing that heavy sweater. He wishes it was bare skin he had to work with—and somehow, he realizes idly, after a few moments of silence, that he would still want to be doing _just_ this. Somehow, his sexual fantasies have deviated even further. And, of course, _nothing_ about this night has been sexual.

 

Fuck, it almost feels like they’ve just had a good and proper _date_ at Alter Ego.

 

Noctis only lets up when Silver’s practically a melted mess against him. The man’s back is relaxed now, all the knots worked free from lean muscle. His own hands are starting to cramp, and Noctis suddenly has a newfound respect for all the shitty therapy sessions he’d had to attend over the years.

 

Silver’s head is tipped back against Noct’s shoulder, though, and his eyes are closed, and _fuck,_ this feels perfect. This has been the best night yet, and – it’s been nothing. It’s been a few stolen conversations, and a strange moment of physical intimacy that Noct doesn’t know how to process.

 

“… I gotta go soon,” Silver murmurs, after they stay like this for a few moments. His eyes slide open, and he meets Noct’s gaze. “You look tired, Gold. You don’t have to wait around. I’m… probably gonna be ready to crash, as soon as I’m done here.”

 

Noctis nods. He’d already figured that out. A part of him wants to be annoyed that the night turned into a waste, but that’s the part of him that’s still desperately clinging to the idea that this is a _sex thing._ Oh, it’s so much deeper than that.

 

“Can I ask you something, first?” Noctis asks, as Silver slowly started to disentangle, putting a bit of distance between them and rolling his shoulders, now that they’re relaxed. He seems in a better mood, and that shouldn’t brighten Noct’s mood as much as it does, but here they are.

 

“Always,” Silver grins. He’s sliding to the edge of the booth though, and Noct gets the distinct feeling his mystery man is about to make his great escape, to retreat back to the familiar. There’s a pang of longing — Noctis is quickly becoming way too used to that emotion, where Silver is involved.

 

“... you haven’t asked me anything about myself. Even though I’ve been asking questions all night,” Noctis points out. Maybe he shouldn’t, but Silver fascinates him. He wants to know what’s going on in that pretty blonde head. “Why?”

 

Silver doesn’t answer for a moment. Bright blue eyes narrow thoughtfully, regarding him, and Noct wonders if he’s pushed too far.

 

Finally, though, he gets a shrug and a grin, Silver’s trademark, easy-going response. “You wouldn’t answer anyway,” he says casually enough. “Spend enough time here, Gold, and you’ll get real good at reading people.”

 

Noctis mulls that over for a moment. “Am I easy to read?” He asks quietly, and his voice is barely loud enough to be heard over the ambient, background noise.

 

Silver grins brighter, as he properly slides out of the booth. He shoulders his back, straightens and smooths out the oversized sweater he’s wearing. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

Then he’s gone, before Noct can respond, and fuck, he does wanna know. He wants to know everything, but Silver disappears through the crowds, leaving Noct alone with his thoughts. Silver has to know, and is that his way of letting Noct know that his secret is safe? Is this another game?

 

Either way, Noctis can feel the weight of his phone in his pocket. He wonders if it’s okay to text again - and he wonders what exactly the rules of this unspoken game are.

 

And, as if to confirm, his phone suddenly vibrates. Noctis damn near drops it in his haste to pull it out again. The screen is too-bright in the dim atmosphere of the club. Noctis needs to get out of here — but he can’t help but grin as he reads Silver’s message.

 

_‘See you next week~?’_

 

Absolutely. And maybe Noct’s showing his own hand, but he texts back immediately.

 

_‘It’s a date.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we should get back to the steamy updates next chapter!! plot's sneaking in, OH NOES. 
> 
> anyway, you know where to find me! I'm on twitter @thatdest ! 
> 
> my wonderful co-writer is @swordlilyebony on twitter & swordliliesandebony.tumblr.com ! 
> 
> please scream at us, we LOVE the feedback and it seriously makes us both so fuckin' happy. <3


	7. Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He worked out a time with Silver, worked out a spot to meet in the club. Worked out everything to promise that they would, unlike the themed night the week before, have some time with one another. Time that wouldn’t be interrupted or interfered with by something like personal responsibilities. A perfect night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that we've fallen a bit behind in the update schedule, but hopefully y'all understand. <3 Every single day is really hard! We're gonna do our best to catch back up though and hopefully everyone enjoys this chapter in the meantime. :)
> 
> We're going out of order with prompts now. I went with bondage for this one, which almost feels like cheating right after shibari ;)

Noctis never knew that a phone number could burn a hole in someone’s pocket, but he’s found it very quickly to be the case. His fingers twitch over the on-screen keyboard almost from the moment he gets home and he swears this behaviour doesn’t stop until he’s standing at the doors of Alter Ego again a week later. He’s proud of himself—he showed enough restraint that, just maybe, he didn’t come off as some sort of borderline obsessed stalker. And he managed to tap out messages that ranged and varied between absolutely casual chatter and thoroughly promised debauchery. And his fingers only twitched and trembled  _ some  _ of the time.

And now, the wait is over. He’s walking into Alter Ego with plans set more deeply in stone than they had ever been before. There’s no more of the cryptic, ‘see you next time’s or not-entirely-reliable ‘it’s a date’s. He worked out a time with Silver, worked out a spot to meet in the club. Worked out everything to promise that they would, unlike the themed night the week before, have some time with one another. Time that wouldn’t be interrupted or interfered with by something like personal responsibilities. A perfect night.

The downside to having Silver’s phone number, Noctis thinks while he makes his way to their meeting point at the bar, is that the man has been on his mind even more than ever. He had lost any confidence he had when he considered asking for photos—it felt too forward, too scummy. But gods, has he wanted to see him. And his fantasies became powerful, intense, unshakable. How many nights did he spend with a good memory or a full-on flight of fancy, working himself to oblivion and to the thought of that gorgeous little blonde?

He finds Silver exactly where he expects to, and he finds him with a smile and Noct’s drink already ordered. The ice is still full in the glass, so Noctis doesn’t think he’s been waiting too long. He greets him by way of an arm slung around Silver’s waist and, in turn, receives a chaste little peck along his jaw. It sends his blood to fire and his legs to jelly, and all manner of organs to resemble things they are not. A kiss—particularly one that borders more on friendly than fiery—should not do this to him. He banks on pulsing colored lights to hide the flush creeping up his throat.

“Right on time.” Silver says with a smile, with his phone being tucked neatly into a pocket that, so clearly, was not designed to hold anything at all. His pants are as tight and as flattering as Noctis has come to expect. His top is accented with a jacket this time, something tight and leathery and probably functionally perfect against the evening chill of early fall. Something that Noctis can’t wait to throw across the room in favor of something better.

“I’d hate to keep you waiting.” Noctis returns, taking a long sip from his drink. He’s not terribly interested in chasing the warm, bubbly feeling that had overtaken him their last meeting. Which works perfectly, because Silver is quick to drain his own and give him an expectant look. They’ll be getting down to business this time. Noctis can practically feel it in the heat radiating from Silver’s skin, the way he leans into the half-embrace and doesn’t do a damn thing to break it. 

Then there were, of course, the texts.

There were a great many promises of something  _ very  _ interesting to indulge in tonight, though Silver didn’t give all the details Noctis was near the point of begging for. Instead, there were reassurances that  _ Gold  _ would absolutely love what he was in store for. The word scared him in a way, because  _ Gold  _ was starting to think he absolutely loved anything relating to Silver, including the man himself. Never mind how impossible, how unacceptable that would be. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t even know his real name.  

“You made all those promises,” Noctis goes on, straight to the heart of the matter, “you didn’t think I wouldn’t be excited to find out more?” He decides it’s easier to focus on the physical part—the only part of this that should exist. He decides it’s easier to pretend he can’t still feel Silver’s warm skin beneath his fingertips, muscle going relaxed and pliant beneath his touch. He decides it’s easier to pretend there wasn’t anything overtly enjoyable about a night with only chaste touching and easy banter. Easier to pretend, at least, in his own mind.

“Got your hopes up, did I? Well, I’ll try not to disappoint.” Silver smirks and he clinks his empty glass against Noctis’s half-full one, an impatient little sign that Noctis should get his ass in gear. The hint is taken as such and Noctis downs the remainder in two large gulps. He shifts his body then so he’s face-to-face entirely with Silver, so that the embrace goes full-bodied in the turn. If Silver minds, he certainly doesn’t show it. That same body, the one that melted against him the week before, is doing the same now.

Noctis, god damn it, is in a whole lot of trouble here.

“C’mon, then. Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting any longer.” The embrace is broken and Noctis feels utterly bereft of the touch. Silver doesn’t break contact entirely though, instead sliding his hand into Noctis’s so he can lead him along as has become their custom. Noctis, for his part, is growing more aware of their surroundings. He’s beginning to learn the rooms they pass and even guess at the play that could take place in them. Most, he finds, are far more intriguing than he would have guessed at first blush. 

He even recognizes the room that Silver takes him to. They’ve used this one before. Noctis can recall the chill of ice being dragged down his bare skin. He can remember the feeling of Silver’s mouth chasing that cold. It’s a good memory. It’s a memory he’s revisited more than once on his own, though he was never quite able to get it so right without Silver’s assistance. Still, a repeat performance doesn’t seem to wash as Silver’s style, so there’s a moment’s confusion.

Until, that is, he sees the room. It isn’t set up as it was before, with the champagne bucket of ice. The expansive bed is set up differently this time, though it’s a subtle change. The heavy rings at head and foot are fitted this time with heavy chains connected to soft, leather cuffs. The realization makes Noctis’s heart leap against his ribs. Makes him remember the other half of their meeting the week before.

He had admitted it, hadn't he? That he would like to see Silver all tied up for him. Or maybe he had just thought it so vividly, so deeply, that he imagined saying it aloud. Did he find some courage later, in the messages they shared through the week? Part of Noctis is inclined to slip out that burner phone—the one which is used exclusively for contact with Silver—and scroll through their texts.  Instead, he remains with wide eyes and half a smile tugging at his lips. Above anything else, beyond what he may or may not have said to Silver, this looks like  _ fun. _

“I happen to recall you saying something about seeing me all tied up,” Silver’s voice is something like a cat purring and it sends a shudder down Noctis’s spine. It makes his mouth open for an eager sound to leap from his throat. He’s just about ready to scream that, yes, that is something he wants to see more than anything else. But he doesn’t say anything because Silver closes the distance between them and he closes Noctis’s mouth with his own. The kiss is frenzied and a little rough, and when Silver parts Noctis feels like his lips are throbbing. He feels like his cock is beginning to throb too, the heat was so heavy.

“I  _ definitely  _ said something about that,” Noctis breathes. He doesn’t waste any time in sliding Silver’s jacket from his shoulders and tossing it down toward the foot of the bed. The eager nature makes Silver chuckle while he makes his own small show of stripping away the tight shirt hiding beneath. Noctis can’t quite help himself, can’t stop from taking a moment to enjoy the sight before him. There’s something near-hypnotic about seeing Silver stripped down, even partially.

He’s all slim curves and tight muscles, light definition, a perfect mix of hard and soft lines that are so damn appealing Noctis wants to taste. He wants to get Silver pressed back against the wall or down onto the bed so that his tongue can explore, so that he can find the places that are most sensitive and find out how to drive Silver  _ insane _ . Hell, he’s ready to do just that, but Silver beats him to the punch, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed then slowly, seductively, making the backward crawl to the center.

“You done this before, Gold?” Silver cocks his head and, for reasons beyond his understanding, Noctis wants to lie. He wants to sound more experienced than he is. As if he will somehow be more appealing with the idea that he’s been in this situation a dozen times before. Silver’s eyes search him though and he shakes his head slowly, a flush spreading his cheeks. Silver smiles at that though, doesn’t look disappointed in the least, “Good. I  _ love  _ playing teacher.”

Silver eases his way back until he’s pressed against the headboard. He looks damn good like that, Noctis thinks. But, then again, Noctis always seems to think he looks damn good. He watches while Silver grabs one of the restraints that dangles around his left side and extends it to Noctis. Noctis takes it, examines it closely. It’s heavier than he would have expected, well-worn leather and a soft, fleece-lined inside. The cuff is fitted with two bands to close the restraint, each with an emergency release. 

While the whole contraption seems pretty self-explanatory, Silver still takes the time to go over how to secure the cuffs with Noctis. He tells him how tight to put it, and how to check in through their play, to make sure something hasn’t shifted uncomfortably, to see if Silver needs a break. They’re small details, but ones that Noctis wouldn’t have thought to employ otherwise and he’s thankful for the rundown.

He’s much more thankful to have Silver secured to that headboard and on display for him. Noctis foregoes the lower restraints for a moment in favor of kissing the man, something just as frantic and rough as Silver had laid upon him earlier. It feels fucking fantastic, with the rumble of a moan caught between their lips, the sharp of Silver’s teeth tugging at Noct’s lower lip when he pulls back. It leaves Noctis breathless, staring at the other man with a new layer of appreciation.

The restraints do a world of wonder for Silver’s form. Stretched out that way, Noctis can see the definition of muscle that much clearer, can point out the dip of his waist, the shape of taut muscle and ribcage beneath smooth, flawless skin. He can’t believe how damn good Silver looks and, again, it’s hard to restrain  _ himself _ and actually get the ankle binds in place as well, however much Noctis is craving the idea of Silver entirely at his mercy.

It’s a role reversal of sorts. Usually, it’s Silver guiding the night. In a way, it still is, with the way his eyes roll over Noct’s body as if it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. With the way he directs not to attach the binds either too tight or too loose. But when all is said and done, Silver is giving himself up to Noctis, giving over any actual control, and Noctis can’t imagine anything more attractive, more appealing than that.

With the restraints in place, the only question left is where to begin. He has Silver, in no uncertain terms, under his control. Just the sight of him, bare from the waist up, giving a small struggle to test the restraints, is almost more than Noctis knows what to do with. He can already feel the telltale throb between his legs, the first blossom of hardness forming there. And he can see the same from Silver, a bit of a shocking detail. Is just being tied up enough to do this to him? Or maybe it’s that sense of giving over control—Noctis knows he has found appeal of his own in doing the same over these past few weeks.

“Looks like it’s my turn,” Noctis hums, “to make you feel good.” And he feels that it’s only fair. Silver has guided their play so fully in the past, and what has Noctis given in return? Sure, they’ve both gotten off, but this is different. This is Silver’s time to shine under the spotlight and, damn it, does he ever shine. Noctis crawls over him slowly, carefully, and he puts his lips to Silver’s throat.

He’s working slowly, taking in every detail. He can feel the thrum of his heavy, quickening pulse beneath his tongue. He can taste the first hints of sweat blooming from his skin. And then there’s the other tastes—the unique flavor of flesh that belongs only to Silver. The bitter tang of cologne that fills his nostrils and taints the flavor in a way that is also somehow appealing. His lips close and he nibbles, sucks at the spot down at the base of his throat, wins a lifting of Silver’s body to press closer to his mouth. 

Noctis makes his way lower, ever so slowly. His tongue drags across the rise of Silver’s clavicle, follows to one side, dips and curves and learns the angles and justs of the bone. He wants, likewise, to learn every inch of Silver’s body. He wants to know how to drive him crazy. He thinks he’s doing pretty well at that, though, the way his back keeps arching or tiny sounds keep escaping his throat.

It’s not until he moves downward more, until his lips close around a nipple, that Silver gives a proper, vocal response. Silver absolutely groans at the contact, gasps out Noctis’s— _ Gold’s— _ name as teeth give a gentle tug to the hardened nub. It’s only a light bit of play, but Noctis can’t miss the way it sets Silver’s body on fire. He lifts his head and plays there with two fingers instead, eager to get a good look at Silver once more.

He’s fighting the restraints again, though this time seems a bit more in earnest. Noctis is ready to give them a check, to slide his fingers in, make sure the tightness is okay, but Silver gives a thumbs up in his struggle and a grin that borders on goofy. It’s enough that Noctis is comfortable taking in the rest of his body. And, god, it looks good. Muscles twitch and shift beneath his skin and there’s no denying that his cock is fully hard now, pressing eagerly against his pants.

“Silver,” Noctis breathes the name, reverent. He wants to make these moments last, he doesn’t want to move forward until he’s certain he’s drawn all the pleasure he can out of a single spot. But as he roles Silver’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, as he watches the man writhe beneath him, he wants  _ more _ . He wants so much more. He wants  _ everything. _ Noctis eases himself back up onto his knees, his hands skimming over ribs, dipping lower to learn more of Silver’s body as he finds a position to  _ see  _ more as well.

It’s not that he’s never seen Silver before, or even that this is his first time touching him. They’ve obviously been spending weeks with one another, getting to know the terrain of each other’s bodies, getting to learn their preferences and pleasures. But this is different. This time, Noctis has complete control and it’s a point he can’t get over. He can’t get past how  _ good  _ Silver looks, all tied up there for him, awaiting more touches. He can’t get over the trust that goes into a scene like this, even if they’re still erring on the simple, introductory side of things.

And so what if this is still bordering toward the  _ easy  _ end? They’re both enjoying themselves, as evidenced by how obviously, visibly hard they both already are. For Noctis, there hasn’t even been any touching. It’s simply Silver, laid out like this, and the attention paid to him that has him so aroused. And as for Silver, well, if Noctis and his tongue can evoke this kind of a reaction, he certainly wants to know what else he can do.

“Please don’t stop.” Silver’s voice catches Noctis by surprise and he looks up to see his face, twisted up in need, big blue eyes locked on his own. It makes him smile, makes him feel strangely warm inside. He wants more. Noctis lives for the idea that he wants more. He lives for the idea that he’s got Silver writhing against the restraints and now at a point of outright begging. That smile widens as he reaches forward to palm over Silver’s erection, still tightly confined in his pants.

“Wouldn’t dream of stopping,” he promises, though there’s an edge in Noctis’s voice with the words. Part of him does think it would be absolutely delightful to slow down. He thinks back to Silver denying him, forcing him to wait for his command, and it’s really one hell of an idea. But he doesn’t have that sort of self-control after missing their  _ session _ last week, and instead he moves to open Silver’s pants, get them tugged down around his bound ankles. He doesn’t waste time, either, in doing the same with black briefs, spotted wet already.

“There’s lube in the bedside,” Silver nods his head toward the table and he bites at his lower lip, as if considering whether to continue. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, “condoms, too. If...you wanted to keep going.” Noctis is a little bit surprised by that information and Silver flushes after giving it. For all they’ve done so far, they very pointedly have  _ not  _ done that. The thought is in mind when Noctis goes to retrieve the lubricant from the indicated table. He palms a condom as well, thoughtful on that point.

“Is that what you want, Silver?” He comes close to the other man’s face when he asks, peppers his throat and jawline again with kisses, the kind that nip and nearly bite, that suckle and promise at least a momentary mark. Silver groans at the feeling, he lets his head fall backward to offer up more of that delicious skin to explore. Noctis doesn’t deny the invitation, though he does fear that it’s a distraction from the question. 

“You’re askin’ if I want you to fuck me, Gold?” There’s a certain sense of amusement to Silver’s voice. He cocks his head a little when Noctis rears back again and there’s a smile playing at kiss-swollen lips, “I’ve wanted that since the first time I saw you. Just thought we might wanna build up to it.” There’s a hint of laughter there now, as if it’s the most absurd thought Silver could have had. As if Noctis hadn’t been thinking the same thing.

“Feels like we’ve done plenty of building up,” Noctis murmurs, back on his knees again now, settled easily between Silver’s legs after working around the binds. Silver makes an affirmative noise in response and he lifts his hips, as if that weren’t enough of a go-ahead. Noctis is glad, though, for the encouragement. For the enthusiasm. He’s got plenty of his own, beneath trembling fingers and behind shaking breaths.

This is really going to happen.

Noctis gets his own pants off before he worries about anything else. He thinks, belatedly, to strip his shirt as well. He remains there, bare and eager before Silver, his cock hard and glistening against his belly. He wants to give something of a show, at least a good glimpse of what Silver will be getting. Noctis knows he’s attractive in a distant, disbelieving sort of way. He’s seen tabloids refer to him as such, heard chatter about how such a handsome Prince should be careful around the ladies. If only they knew.

But it’s Silver who actually makes Noctis feel like there’s something there. It’s Silver who makes him feel like he’s properly good looking, like he’s worth looking at at all. Because when Silver’s eyes are on him, drinking him up that way, he feels powerful and wanted and like the only person in the world who fucking matters. Well, the only person other than Silver himself. It’s a sense that should be ringing alarm bells, but all it’s doing is making his heart race happily in his chest.

“Totally unfair, you lookin’ like that and me not gettin’ to touch,” Silver pouts and he arches himself again, gives a token struggle against the binds. Noctis makes a  _ tsk _ ing sound in response, shaking his head. This was Silver’s idea in the first place, after all, and he’s not using their safe word so he’s certainly not coming undone just yet. Noctis does lean forward though and put his fingers against Silver’s palms to squeeze as he had been instructed.

It’s a check-in mechanism. If Silver’s hands were cold or slow to grip or terribly weak, he would know that the binds are too tight or have been held too long and it’s time to release his captive. None of those warning signs come true though, so Noctis is satisfied with continuing. He starts by arranging himself just as he had been, then by wrapping a hand around Silver and giving a few long, even pumps.

It’s not the way that Silver prefers to be touched—he’s more interested in something tight and rough, unpredictable in rhythm. Which means that this is driving him utterly insane, in just the way Noctis wants to. Sure enough, it has him writhing against the restraints again and, gods, the way his face twists up is just to die for. He gives a few more strokes in this manner, watching Silver respond in turn to them, before he grabs the bottle of lube from its spot tangled into the silk sheets.

Noctis, by this point, is absolutely aching for attention to his own cock. He almost forgoes Silver for a moment in that favor, too. But he wants the first thing he feels to be  _ him,  _ so he manages to put his attention to the show. He drizzles the lube over his finger, twists and twirls and curls it before Silver’s eyes. That wins a groan, wins some licked lips, wins a twitching in Noct’s cock that is almost impossible to ignore.

When he presses a finger in, it feels like Silver is already about to burst around him. He works slow, searching, crooking and pressing while he watches the reaction. He’s only going at it with one finger, working him slowly, and he can tell that it’s enough to drive Silver mad. When he presses over that spot he was seeking out, Silver cries out his name. Not, of course, his  _ real _ name. But Gold is seared onto his lips and it’s a good goddam look, a perfect sound.

Noctis continues with a slow assault, his second finger working in, pressing against Silver’s prostate, opening him up in preparation for something better. Just the same, after adding more lube, he works a third finger inside. Here, it’s starting to grow impossibly tight, difficult to manage, and he looks to Silver for confirmation.

“Tell me if I should stop.” There’s no seduction, no tease in his voice. It’s absolutely in earnest that he makes the reminder and an expression crosses Silver’s face that he doesn’t quite recognize. Appreciation, perhaps? It feels almost like affection, but Noctis knows better. He knows that he’s imposing his own feelings on nothing more than a facial tic. Maybe he  _ should  _ stop, before he goes and gets his heart broken.

“I will. Keep going. Fuck, Gold, I wanna feel  _ you.” _ That is more than enough confirmation, more than enough encouragement for Noctis. He doesn’t take it any quicker, but he continues on with three fingers until he’s satisfied that Silver is properly prepared, that he won’t be hurt by moving forward. He takes a moment with his free hand, before he slides the fingers out of Silver, to seek out the condom, also twisted in the sheets. Once he does, he puts on a show of rolling the rubber down his stiff erection. He feels Silver’s eyes boring into him and he absolutely  _ loves _ it. There’s that word again, painting his vision, promising to ruin him later. 

Noctis is quick to coat himself with more lube now that the condom is in place, and he’s quick too to get the head of his cock pressed up against Silver’s entrance, to find an angle and a position that’s comfortable enough for them both. It’s not entirely easy, with Silver’s ankles being bound, but Silver is cooperative and lifts for him, sinking some inches against the headboard, and it’s clear that this will  _ work _ .

“Ready?” Noctis purrs the question—a sound he didn’t even know he was capable of making, where the word rumbles deep in his throat and catches filtered light through his lips.

“Been ready for weeks.” Silver gasps back, no longer the image of composition he generally arranges himself into. Noctis is smiling at that, at the way his hair is tousled and—in parts—matted against his forehead. He’s smiling at the flush that stretches across freckled cheeks and down along his throat. The way that even Silver’s shoulders look a little pink. He’s smiling at the way he gasps, then, gasps and sputters, when Noctis presses his way slowly inside.

From there, Noctis is the one who can no longer keep his composure, almost immediately. It’s hot and impossibly tight and it’s Silver, which somehow makes those two qualities a distant third. He doesn’t know what it is about the man that has captivated him so fully, but there’s no more denying it. He makes a slow inward thrust and he hears the gasping, sees the way Silver’s face twists up, and he feels like his life is over. Like nothing will ever compare to this moment.

He’s being ridiculous, of course. It’s just sex. It’s the most natural thing in the world, perhaps under less-than-natural circumstances, but still. There’s no reason that his heart should already be threatening to burst in his chest. There’s no reason his arm should be trembling where it supports his weight. There’s probably no reason he should be leaning in carefully to kiss Silver while he makes those first slow, experimental movements. But all of this is true and it’s more than Noctis can bear. 

Noctis knows that he won’t be able to make this last long, and he has that in mind when his free hand wraps around Silver’s erection to work him off in time. It has the other man writhing again, has his hips lifting into each thrust. When Noctis pulls away from the extended round of kisses, he sees Silver’s head fall back, his face written with pure ecstacy. There are encouragements on Silver’s lips, a silent ‘keep going’ that isn’t entirely silent after a few moments.

He hears the rattle of the binds and, for a moment, he wishes that Silver wasn’t tied up that way. He wishes that he could feel nails digging across his back or a fist gripping through his hair. Only for a moment though because, then, he remembers that for these moments, Silver is  _ his _ . He belongs to Noctis in a way that he never can outside these walls, outside this very room. He wonders if Silver knows that, in these moments quickly building to release, that Noctis belongs to him as well.

He doesn’t communicate that—he  _ can’t  _ communicate that—but it doesn’t matter. They’re both lost in one another and Noctis doesn’t doubt that fact for a moment. He can feel the way that Silver’s cock is twitching and leaking heavily in his hand. And he thinks Silver must feel the way that tension is mounting within him, the way that Noctis’s thrusts become more pointed, harder, quicker.

There’s a warning on Noctis’s lips, but it comes a second too late, because as he says it, Silver arches up, arches into him, and something magical happens in the way that he’s bottoming out in the other man. It’s an explosion of pleasure he can’t quell and he can feel it rocking through Silver too. Noctis is breathless, lost in the haze of the shared orgasm, still milking Silver through it until he’s writhing and whimpering again and Noctis simply collapses against him.

His face lands somewhere about Silver’s chest and he lays kisses against the heaving breaths, against the rapid hammer of his heartbeat, against all the perfect skin that he wants to keep kissing forever. He wants more, of this, and of something else, and it’s terrifying. It has his mind reeling when he thinks to move and release Silver from the restraints. It has him dizzied through his afterglow when he’s tugged back to the bed, after the necessary cleaning is taken care of.

It has Noctis forgetting to say anything at all while they bask in it, while Silver’s fingers work through his hair and Noctis nuzzles against his chest and they simply share this moment. While Noctis can’t help but wonder if, just maybe, Silver is feeling the same thing he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback is our lifeblood, please keep us going! <3


	8. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct's definitely showing his true colours way too early, but if he can hide it behind the painted sins of a themed night, it's okay, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretend this was posted last night, ok? ;)

Noctis _hates_ how deep he is, but… at the same time, he wants more, and desperately.

 

He’s so fucking grateful that slowly, the barriers are crumbling down between them. Well, the most important one – the _anonymity –_ stays solid, though Noct even begins to question that. If he just _tells_ Silver, what will happen? And, of course, there’s the heavy, creeping suspicion that the other man already knows. He has to already know.

 

But if Silver knows, he’s keeping his mouth shut about it.

 

Slowly, ever since they’d exchanged numbers, they’ve become less fuck buddies, more… _something else._ Something with no definition. Noctis finds his idle thoughts always gravitating toward the blonde. Every time his phone buzzes (and he _has_ started carrying his burner phone with him everywhere, right alongside the official one) Noctis hopes that it’s Silver.

 

And, usually, it _is_ Silver.

 

Noct’s so fucking grateful that he’s not the one who started texting nonstop. He’s glad he’s not the one that broke first, because suddenly now it’s _acceptable._ They never talk about anything in specific, and Noct loves it. It’s idle banter, incredibly overt flirting, vaguely setting the next week’s plans… hell. Silver’s the first person to _ever_ ask Noctis about his day, and to ever seem interested in hearing a response.

 

(Naturally, Noct can’t offer many details, but it’s still a little surge of warmth to his chest, a smile he can’t push aside. Silver _cares.)_

 

It’s mid-week when Silver finally texts him about the upcoming weekend.

 

_‘hey. Unofficial theme night this fri! u in?’_

 

Noctis blinks as he reads the text. It’s been a long day, for various reasons. It’s the kind of day where he _really_ wants to throw caution to the wind and just invite the other man over. And – it’s not even necessarily _sex_ that he wants. That’s still way too weird though, right? Inviting his casual sex partner over to hang out on the couch and cuddle and watch movies? There’s no way.

 

_‘that mean youre taking pics again?’_ he texts back, and that’s probably too strong, probably showing just what Noct’s concerned about, but… there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach. These little weekend adventures to Alter Ego are getting him through his weeks at this point. Noct is starting to think that he _needs_ Silver, just like he needs air, like he needs water.

 

Silver is typing, the little chat bubbles blinking across the screen.

 

_‘aww! Someone misses me! :smile: ‘_

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, but any witty comments on the tip of his tongue fade away because Silver is still typing.

 

_‘no worries. It’s unofficial so they didn’t hire me. property of gold~’_

 

Noct’s stomach flutters and his eyes narrow and suddenly, it’s hard to focus, hard to breathe. Silver is _his_ property. That little tease centers in on a very particular fantasy, and Noct hates just how much he fucking _loves_ the concept of it. Of course, he can’t help but take the bait, quickly typing out a response.

 

_‘damn right you are. whats unofficial theme night mean? n what theme?’_

 

Silver is typing, and Noctis is ignoring the entire rest of the world in favour of eagerly awaiting his blonde mystery man’s response.

 

_‘just means everyone dresses up a certain way. no club-sponsored events or anything. but it’s pet play week. =^.^= u gonna be my master, gold?’_

Oh. Oh _fuck yes._ Noctis groans, and he’s shameless, because there’s such a deep, sudden surge of arousal spiking through him, ricocheting down his spine and curling warmly in the pit of his belly. He nearly drops his phone. Noct awkwardly types out a one-handed response ( _‘absolutely. Usual time, usual place?’)_ and then he can’t help the way he’s dragging a hand down over his pants, fingers tracing the outline of a cock that’s already stirring to life.

 

He’s given up on feeling bad about jerking off to thoughts of Silver. It’s become a constant. And right now? All Noct can think about is how good it would be for Silver to kneel before him – to call him _master,_ or hell, maybe even _majesty._

 

\---

 

It is, indeed, pet-play week, and that’s rather obvious as Noctis leaves the outside world behind and slips into the sinful façade that the walls of Alter Ego provide. He’s become so much more confident in the past weeks. The moment that he melds into the background, the dark ambience and the pulsing music and the bustling, energy-filled crowd, the sunglasses come off.

 

A girl pushes past Noct on his way to the bar, and she’s wearing barely _anything_ at all. That’s nothing unusual – what’s _new_ is the bushy fox tail that’s falling from the top of her shorts. Noct’s eyes narrow, and he swallows heavily. Sure, there are plenty who haven’t gone so deep into the theme, but. Fuck. Did Silver?

 

Noctis doesn’t have to wait long. He’s glad that their tentative friends-with-benefits situation is beyond the weird mind games stage. They don’t leave each other waiting. The blonde is at his usual spot, their usual drinks waiting. Noctis wants to _think_ that the feeling is mutual, that Silver is just as excited to see him.

 

It’s hard to say for sure, though. Noctis _knows_ he doesn’t have of a social life, outside of the glamor and drama that comes with his status. He knows nothing about Silver, though. Noct wants to think that he’s got good instincts, that he has a decent feel for the kind of person Silver is. He doesn’t seem the type to have someone waiting at home. And, well.

 

Sometimes, Noct gets the feeling that Silver is just as lonely as he is.

 

“Hey,” Silver grins, and he wastes no time in leaning in, nuzzling their cheeks together.

 

Noctis feels the dumb, excited grin spread across his face, and he doesn’t bother to try and suppress it.

 

“Hey,” he echoes back, and as he gets a good look at Silver, he is _way_ too damn pleased to see that, indeed, Silver’s dressed for the occasion. He’s in leather today - dark colours, and it _suits_ him - and there’s a ridiculous pair of fuzzy cat ears perched on top of styled, blonde tufts. Noct can’t help himself, lifting a hand to gently pet the stupid, fluffy ears.

 

“Meow,” Silver intones playfully, and he laughs. This time, their lips bump together in a kiss that’s way more affectionate than it needs to be. Noctis isn’t complaining.

 

“A cat, huh?” Noctis draws back, and he reaches for his drink. He leans against the edge of the bartop, eyeing Silver thoughtfully. “Would’ve taken you more for a puppy.”

 

Silver grins brightly, and downs a sip of his own drink. He’s got something sugary tonight, not quite his usual, and Noct can’t wait to taste it on his lips. “Yeah? Why’s that, Gold?”

 

Noctis doesn’t respond right away; rather, he lets the tension hang in the air. “Mmm. Cats don’t like to listen to authority. They do whatever the fuck they want.” And, of course, maybe Silver is just like that as well, but--Noct’s starting to get a feeling for the other man. Or, so he thinks. And so, he presses on. “... you like to please. I think you just want someone to own you and take care of you.”

 

Silver’s eyes burn bright, even in the dim light, but for a moment, Noct thinks he looks taken aback. “Yeah? You volunteering to be my master, Gold? That’s a pretty serious deal to put on the table.”

 

The words are like honey, sweet and thick in Noct’s throat as he tries to swallow. He _does_ want that, and fuck, he wants it more than he can express with simple words. It’s also impossible--and, besides, it’s just simple teasing. The banter between them is always good. It always keeps Noctis on his toes, and he appreciates that.

 

“Reminds me,” he says instead, and Noctis reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small, long box. There’s another moment where he _knows_ he’s taking this too far, he’s pushing too much--but it doesn’t stop him from offering the package to SIlver. “For you.”

 

This time, Noct definitely doesn’t miss the slight tremble to the man’s fingers. He fumbles with his glass, nearly dropping it, but Silver expertly catches himself and sets his drink back down on the table. “... shit, my prince charming is _already_ buying me gifts?” he teases.

 

_Prince Charming._ Noctis doesn’t miss it and, yet again, the words echo in his mind: Silver _knows._

 

“Shove it. Just open it, okay?” he groans.

 

There’s an instant where Noctis thinks that maybe the other man will refuse. Instead, though, SIlver’s carefully untying the ribbon wrapped around the box. He pulls the lid off, and peers at its contents--and, yeah. Noct can tell, immediately, that this was a good call, by how Silver’s features shift, by the way his breath catches.

 

“... fuck. Gold. You sure?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis replies casually with a shrug of his shoulders. In his chest, his heart is outright hammering frantic and heavy against his ribcage, trying desperately to break free.

 

SIlver regards him for a moment, before he carefully lifts up the contents. It’s a collar - rich, soft black leather, studded with diamonds. The tag doesn’t have anything written on it, but it’s in such intricate, expensive gold--there’s no denying the message Noctis is screaming to the world. Silver is _his,_ as long as he’ll have him. At least, as long as they can hide under the facade of a themed night at a shitty sex club.

 

Noct had spent a small fortune on it, hiring it custom made, express-ordered to be ready in time. He only hopes nobody questions the credit card bill too much.

 

“Help me?” Silver asks softly. This time, it’s Noct’s fingers trembling as he fastens the clasps in place. It’s a snug fit, but it’s _perfect,_ the soft leather hugging Silver’s skin perfectly, accentuating the delicate dips and curves of his jaw, the slender length of his throat. It’d be so _nice_ to curl his fingers around, to dig in, to maybe boss him around a little…

 

“What do you think?” Noctis asks softly. He’s reaching back into his jacket pocket, and this time, he pulls out a coiled length of matching, black leather.

 

“Pretty good,” Silver grins, and his eyes narrow as he watches Noctis. “A leash too, huh? You really _are_ a kinky motherfucker, Gold.”

 

The lead clasps in place, and Noctis gives an evil little tug. It puts just a bit of pressure on Silver’s throat, makes him gasp out a quiet, choked sound - a noise that goes straight to Noct’s cock. Of course, Noct is pretty sure his body is just _conditioned_ to pop a boner as soon as he’s in Silver’s presence, because he was already starting to fill out before all of this. He’s not complaining about that.

 

“You wanna get a room?” Noctis asks, still casually.

 

“Mmm,” Silver agrees, immediately. “Lead the way, _master.”_

 

Noct’s cock strains harder against his pants, and it’s unfair, really, just how fucking easy it is to get him going, where this stupid little blonde is involved. He gives another tug on the leash, and this time, he’s the directing them through the crowds.

 

\---

 

They end up in the first unoccupied room they find, which speaks a good deal for Noct’s impatience. He’s got a lazier streak - a petulant, self-indulgent side that SIlver’s really beginning to draw out. It’s been one hell of a long week, though, and the idea of bossing the blonde around is _really_ nice. He keeps curling his fingers around the end of the leash and giving harsh little tugs - and every fucking time, it catches Silver off-guard. It’s hot as hell.

 

The door’s barely closed when Silver turns, pressing their lips together. It’s nothing like the soft kiss they’d exchanged earlier; this time, it’s familiar. It’s heat, wet drags of tongue and evil little nips of sharp teeth against Noct’s lower lip. Just like a fucking cat, he thinks, and as if to prove a point - suddenly, Silver’s nails are digging into the back of his neck, leaving harsh red marks.

 

“Fucking brat,” Noctis growls, as they part, and this time, he jerks _downway_ on the leash. It sharply pulls Silver’s head down, and the blonde hisses in response. He’s not protesting, though, not making any sort of attempt to stop things. Instead, Silver falls to his knees before Noctis. And, suddenly, that’s _exactly_ where Noct wants him to be.

 

The room they’re in is a small one, with no particular theme, just a couch and a small bed tucked in the corner. Noct’s back is against the wall, though, one hand at his side, the end of the lead coiled around his fist. The other hand traces the soft edges of those fluffy cat ears, idly petting them, idly slipping down to stroke through gorgeous blonde hair.

 

He’s captivated. Silver looks amazing down there - and, as if in sheer defiance of his master, Silver’s head lifts, his chin tucks up and vibrant eyes lock on Noct’s.

 

“What does my master want~?” Silver teases. His hands lift, settling warm on the tops of Noct’s thighs, massaging solid muscle through his pants. Even _that_ touch sets Noct’s blood boiling, has the heat spreading like wildfire through his veins.

 

“Brat,” Noctis mumbles again, though the term has become something affectionate. Another tug of the leash, and Silver’s face presses closer still. Through his pants, Noct can feel the hot puff of breath, and _gods,_ there’s nothing he’s ever wanted more. He always wants Silver - always, and in the most inopportune of times - but right now, it’s a burning need. It’s intense, and Noctis almost gasps, almost tips his head back and closes his eyes and simply rides it out.

 

Of course, he can’t take his eyes away from the blonde between his legs. Noct gives another rough tug of the leash, and this time, when he feels SIlver’s lips ghosting over the aching, throbbing bulge of his cock, his breath catches.

 

“Fuck, SIlver, _show_ me what a good boy you can be,” Noctis encourages. He keeps a tighter hold on the leash, fingers stroking through that soft hair with his other hand - and that’s all that SIlver needs. It’s all that SIlver ever needs.

 

The fucking brat - and he _is_ a brat - apparently knows how to tug Noct’s zipper down with his teeth. That’s an evil little trick, and it’s got Noct’s cock even harder, outright straining now as he watches in awe. There’s so much light pressure (but not even), and the blonde is absolutely devious. He’s putting on one hell of a show, all for Noctis.

 

Silver’s cheek nuzzles into Noct’s cock, through his underwear, and it makes him moan. He _wants_ to let the blonde take this at his own pace. There’s still electric memories zapping in his mind about Silver drawing it out, bringing him to the edge and denying him. Noct can still feel the lingering, melting ice on his skin - and fuck, he can still feel the tight heat of Silver’s ass gripping his cock, milking him for all he’s worth.

 

A wet tongue drags over his cock, still through the fabric of his underwear, and Noct really _does_ moan. He can’t hold back - his hips buck forward, the hand in Silver’s hair tightens, pulling that face in closer.

 

“You like that?” Silver teases lightly, but Noctis can _hear_ the arousal, heavy in the other man’s voice. He can feel Silver’s cock, pressed against his leg where the blonde is settled in closer. Noct debates lifting his leg, letting Silver grind one off against him, but - no, half the fun is the denial. Half the fun is letting his hedonistic streak shine.

 

Silver doesn’t waste any time, either. Deft fingers hook under the waistband of his underwear, give a _tug,_ and suddenly, Noct’s cock springs free. Suddenly, he’s gasping - and then, moments later, there are plush lips wrapped around his cock. Silver’s mouth is velvety and _so_ hot, so fucking wet, and the blonde doesn’t fuck around.

 

He sinks down on Noct’s cock to the base, and Noctis is lost. He’s gone - he’s stroking those soft ears, he’s tugging on Silver’s hair. He’s got a deathgrip on that leash, and all he can think is that SIlver’s the perfect little pet, his perfect little slut. He might be gasping that - might be moaning his praise. Noct’s not sure.

 

He’s been thinking about this all week. Every time he glances down - Silver’s eyes are wet, rimmed with tears and slightly red. His cheeks are flushed and streaked wet too, over the freckles. His lips are spread wide around the thick length of Noct’s cock, and there’s saliva at the corner of his lips. It’s pooling down his chin, mingling with the bitter musk of precome, and it’s _perfect._ It’s gorgeous, and Noctis wants to commit it to memory.

 

He can’t, though - because SIlver’s moving on his cock. Each drag backwards is delicious friction, with the curl of a tongue right around the head. He’s throbbing, pulsing - and then, Silver sinks back down, and the tip of his leaking cock nudges and bumps the back of the man’s throat. The sensation is driving Noctis insane.

 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, _Silver,_ don’t stop--”

 

He sounds stupid. Noctis knows he does. He’s trembling, though. His shirt is pushed up his belly, and the muscle of his stomach is twitching. His balls are drawn up tight and heavy, so ready after such a long week of _desire,_ of so much pent-up need. And always, his cock twitches and aches, as Noct’s hips thrust forward, as he meets Silver halfway. It’s a fucking miracle the blonde isn’t choking, but instead, hands massage his inner thighs, encouraging.

 

It’s when Silver cups his balls, rolling them in his hand, that Noctis _cries_ out. All restraint is gone -- all he can focus on is how good it feels. That tight throat is clenching around him, and as Noct gives the leash one final _tug,_ as he outright pulls Silver’s face down, fucking into him rough and hard, his orgasm explodes.

 

It’s messy. It’s outright _brutal,_ but fuck, it’s everything he wants, everything he needs. There’s saliva dripping from Silver’s chin, mingled with smears of white as Noct comes hard enough that he can’t swallow it all down. The blonde chokes a little--and as he draws back, as Noctis finally releases him, there’s so much _mess._ It’s everywhere, streaked across his cheeks, some caught in the ends of his hair.

 

And, fuck, chest heaving, Noctis can’t help but _love_ it. He can’t help but feel as though he’s staked his claim, laid mark on the other man. Of course--he doesn’t own Silver. He doesn’t even fucking know his name. It’s stupid to be so serious, to be dropping cold, hard cash on something stupid like a _collar._

 

Silver hums though, his voice rough from the abuse. He leans in, nuzzling Noct’s wet, softening cock, pressing a kiss right against the base.

 

“Better, love?” he teases.

 

Noctis tenses up. That pet name. Fuck, his heart is swelling again, and if his cock wasn’t so thoroughly spend, he’d be twitching back to life again. It’s absolutely _unfair_ of Silver, to see through him so thoroughly. It’s just a tease, just a game--though, it’s apparently a different game than Noct initially suspected.

 

“You always make it better,” he groans. And then, before SIlver can say anything else, before he can make Noct’s world come crashing down again, he’s tugging at the leash again, pulling Silver up off his knees and mashing their lips together. Between them, Silver is still achingly hard, and Noct’s determined to return the favour.

 

More importantly, though, he needs to turn the direction back to the familiar, to the _easy._ To the sex. They need to focus on the sex, because otherwise, he’s flying far too close to the sun. There will be no going back, at that point, and Noct isn’t ready to face the consequences. There’s no easy solution, after all. Tonight, though, in Alter Ego, they’re running from their realities, running from their false exteriors, and letting their true selves shine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was a taaaad late! I actually did finish it last night, but we're on totally opposite work schedules (time change + i work early mornings to late afternoon & spiff works overnights!) so i wanted to wait for her to read before i posted~ <3
> 
> yet another chapter of "noct's in way too deep" and he was gonna deepfuck prompto and put him in his place but i got tired. LOL. next time~
> 
> as always, thank you for your feedback and your flailing and for getting so attached to these boys! reviews are the best! ilu all!


	9. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their hours of operation vary, but Noctis has already checked the website, and without any events planned, Alter Ego will not be opening again until Friday evening.
> 
> It’s too long to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for how late this chapter is coming! Work makes it incredibly difficult to stick to a quick turnover schedule. Hopefully y'all enjoy another soft chapter after all the waiting. <3

_ I wanna see you _

The text isn’t hard to send, when Noctis has had a beer or two and a day that he doesn’t want to think about before the drinks. He’s sat up in his apartment, not paying attention to the game he has on pause, not paying attention to anything other than the mistake of sending that text in the first place. And it  _ is  _ a mistake, some part of him knows. He has never seen Silver outside of the club and the club isn’t an option tonight. Their hours of operation vary, but Noctis has already checked the website, and without any events planned, Alter Ego will not be opening again until Friday evening.

It’s too long to wait.

But this is still a foolish endeavor, as much as anything regarding Silver is. Noctis is finding it harder and harder to deny that  _ feelings  _ are popping up. If anything, he should be stepping back. He should be putting more distance, more time, more space between himself and the gorgeous little blonde. It’s bad enough that his fantasies on nights alone now center entirely on him. What’s worse is that Noctis isn’t even texting based on one of those fantasies. He’s sending the message because he’s lonely, and because Silver is the first person he thinks of when he thinks of inviting company.

This is bad. This is so bad. This is Noctis setting his phone aside—trying desperately not to watch and wait for notification that Silver is typing—and trying to come up with an exit plan already. It wouldn’t be so hard. Just say that he meant Friday, that he meant he’s excited for their next planned tryst. He tries to resist picking up the phone when it buzzes back at him. He knows damn well that it’s Silver. Nobody else has that number.

_ When? _

Again, Noctis thinks about all the easy ways he can get out of the hole he’s digging himself. He tries to recall that he needs to be cautious. It can’t really be so simple as inviting Silver back to his place, and just for what? He isn’t sure he even wants sex, he just wants company. Would Silver be interested in something like that? And the safer alternative of inviting Silver out elsewhere...well, that would be sitting firmly in ‘date’ territory. Noctis can’t take a man he met at the sex club out for a date. He can’t safely take a man he met  _ anywhere _ out for a date, not without the constant threat of tabloid attention. And what would Silver think of that?

_ Now. Come over. Or come out. I rly wanna see you. _

It’s downright desperate and Noctis knows he shouldn’t hit ‘send’. It doesn’t stop him, though the same old anxiety begins to bubble up again. Who’s to say Silver would even want to see him outside of the club? Or that he isn’t busy with something else. Someone else, Noctis thinks, and that idea burns red hot in him, makes his stomach twist and turn in exciting new ways. It’s entirely inappropriate in a way the relationship— _ stop calling it that— _ doesn’t even touch on. Noctis has no place to be jealous, but possessive thoughts keep springing up, keep invading his heart and mind whenever Silver comes to either. And that is becoming a startlingly regular occurance. 

_ Gimme ten to get dressed. Where? _

Noctis’s breath catches with the question. He doesn’t have an answer supplied right away. What the hell was he even thinking with this? What was he playing at? He has no right to be inviting Silver over in the middle of the week, without any plans at all, just because he wants to see him. But he does and he is and now it’s too far to back out. Maybe not. He could just not respond. Hell, he could turn off the phone and never respond again. He could leave Silver and Alter Ego in his past, and he certainly couldn’t be blamed for doing so. What was simply forbidden to start is turning to outright danger. 

He taps his address into the phone’s keyboard. He almost loses his nerve, his thumb hovering over that ‘send’ button again. He remembers to type in the apartment number, instructions for the call box. He even remembers to give an apology that he can’t meet Silver at the door, with the excuse that he needs to clean up. That part is an obvious lie if he’s ever told one. The apartment is spotless—he has  _ people  _ who take care of that. Well, he has a pushy advisor who generally doesn’t allow it to fall into disarray, but it’s all the same.

The truth is, he can’t be seen letting some stranger inside, regardless of who it is. There is too much potential for questions. Thankfully, Noctis has long since taken up residence outside the Citadel. He prefers it this way. Sure, most of his days are taken up by meetings in his old home, but having a small place of his own outside those walls is freeing, if nothing else. It’s a relief, not to always be under a hundred watchful eyes. Even if the potential still remains that he be captured by a few with less noble intent. 

And, of course, he could never invite Silver over to the Citadel on a whim. 

He  _ shouldn’t _ be inviting him over to his apartment on a whim, but at least there’s the chance that they won’t be found out. He wonders if he should tell Silver to be on the lookout for some random scum with a camera, aiming to make a small fortune with a trashy headline. But that would give him away as much as anything. He groans and relaxes back into the couch just as much as he can manage, swinging his legs up onto the end and laying back properly, an arm slung across his face.

This is all assuming, of course, that Silver hasn’t worked out who Noctis really is. And there have been little slips, little hints, for the past few weeks that he couldn’t be so lucky. There has been that nagging suspicion, that horrible fear for a while now, that Silver knows  _ exactly _ who Noctis is. 

But if he does, even if that’s the case, it isn’t information he’s acted on. So maybe there isn’t anything to worry about. This is the cycle of thoughts Noctis has been rotating through since damn near the first time he met the guy. Certainly since the first time they met without the safety of masks or dark glasses. Does he know? Does it  _ matter  _ if he does? It matters, most definitely. But he hasn’t said anything, not to Noctis and not to anyone more dangerous. So maybe he really  _ is  _ that oblivious…

_ See ya soon _

The next text brings another wave of anxiety, another jolt of potential regret. He shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t be doing this. But Silver is coming to his apartment and it’s enough to kick Noctis into action. The place isn’t a mess by any means—again, he’s not in a position to leave it as such—but he can do some sort of tidying. There are a few extra takeout containers from earlier in the evening that get shoved into the fridge. He changes from the sweats and tee that serve as lounge clothes and pajamas at once to pull on some jeans. He even runs a comb through his hair, what little good that does. 

Then, he’s left waiting. Waiting, alone, with his thoughts. He tries flipping through some channels, but he isn’t exactly surprised to find that nothing catches his attention. He can’t shake the anticipation, the anxiety that’s clouding his mind. The truth is, he absolutely wants Silver here. He wants to get to know him more, outside the club. He wouldn’t have invited him if that weren’t the truth. He wants to sit curled together on this couch, making fun of bad movies or playing some games, and he can’t help but wonder if Silver will turn back out the door and leave him alone again if he admits that.

It’s not that he’s opposed to anything else happening. He loves his time with Silver in the club.  _ Loves _ being the operative and terribly dangerous word. He wouldn’t be upset if the night turns into another one of their romps—albeit less of a wild one, with all the unexplored implements of the club at their fingertips. It’s just that he still has that feeling in the back (and front) of his mind that he wants to know Silver. That he wants to know him, god help them both, as  _ more  _ than just Silver. 

Noctis isn’t sure how it happened. He doesn’t know what small detail about the man, what part of his appeal has left him wanting so much more. He knows that it’s wrong, that it’s the last thing he should be feeling. He’s looking a gift horse in the mouth by trying to sacrifice that anonymity, but gods does he ever want to. He wants to shed the masks that still remain. He wants their false names to be a choice rather than a necessity. He wants to know what makes Silver tick, what he likes and what he hates, where he comes from, how he got into his line of business. He wants to know everything. It’s terrifying. 

It’s enough that when a knock comes at the door some time later, Noctis nearly jumps from his skin. A part of him still feels inclined to run and hide, even when this was his idea. Even when he had every opportunity to back out before Silver was standing outside his door waiting to be let in. He still hesitates just a moment before he drags himself from the couch and over to the entryway. 

Even answering the door requires a certain amount of discretion. He checks the peephole first and his heart accelerates even knowing who he will see at the other side. Silver, through the fish hole, looks appropriately nervous himself, and it somehow bolsters Noctis. As if he can be the one who acts as though this is perfectly normal, so long as Silver knows too that it isn’t. He opens the door and steps aside, as if being seen at the precipice is certain doom. And, if anyone followed Silver, it very well could be.

His exact apartment isn’t public knowledge, but certain intrepid scumbags with clicking cameras have made their attempts. In Silver’s defense, if he finds this odd, he doesn’t say so and instead crosses in and allows Noctis to close the door quickly behind him. He’s then greeted with a smile and somewhat shaky open arms. He allows himself to all but fall into them and suddenly Noctis wonders if that expression had nothing to do with coming to the apartment at all.

He had, he recalls suddenly, been all too quick to agree to this meeting. Did something happen at work? Did something happen at home? Is there the possibility he’s only looking for an excuse to escape some unhappy situation, and that Noctis is playing the perfect role in that? He doesn’t want to think so, because that jealousy suddenly flares up again along with something else. Anger? Would someone hurt Silver? His mind is spinning in strange directions, something not helped when Silver’s smile is weak as they part.

“Hey… I’m… glad you had me over.” His voice is halting, uncertain, and Noctis steps aside a bit to allow him roam of the apartment. Silver doesn’t move, but he looks around and takes in the scene. The place is big, a proper penthouse suite at the top of a towering building. His kitchen alone is the size of some of the smaller places Noctis has seen, and that’s not even counting the open plan to the living space, which has plenty of room on the floor even with the leather sectional and hefty coffee table before it.

“I’m glad you came.” Noctis offers in return, a little belatedly. There’s an awkward tension in the air and it is, in part, what Noctis had feared. Does Silver  _ really  _ wanna be here? He’s telling the truth, at least, in that he wanted him to show up. He could have easily ignored the text or feigned that he was busy, and with the harried look on his face, the sagging in his shoulders, Noctis gets the feeling that might have been the case.

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m a mess,” Silver runs his fingers through his hair and offers a weak smile. Noctis thinks he looks absolutely amazing, but he doesn’t say that. He only offers a sympathetic look in return while Silver goes on, “work was something else today. Nightmare clients. It happens sometimes, so I was glad for the excuse to cut it short.” He laughs just a little bit and there’s a nervous quality to it, something that makes Noctis frown.

“Nightmare, like, it wasn’t safe? You seem shaken up…” Noctis takes Silver lightly by the wrist to lead him over to the couch, where he happily flops down. It’s only when he sets it down that Noctis realizes Silver still has his camera bag, still has a messenger along with it to set on the floor. Noctis takes them up to set on the tiny dining room table and he moves now to the liquor cabinet, every indication being that Silver could use a nice, stiff drink.

“I dunno. It would’ve probably been fine. But people think they can cut themselves a deal if they get a little pushy and I’m not in the business of discounting my time,” Silver explains, and he murmurs a thank you when Noctis holds an empty glass to him, confirming that he could use one a bit more full, “people will take advantage if you let them. But not letting them when they have an idea in their mind… it’s just part of the business, I guess.” Noctis frowns at this. He finds very quickly that he doesn’t like the idea of people taking advantage of Silver. A new sense comes over him, a sort of protective feeling that he doesn’t know how to place. It’s not something he’s really felt before, not toward someone outside of his closest.

But maybe Silver is becoming one of those closest. It’s a scary thought, given that he’s still only known as Silver. Can he ask? Is now the time? But Noctis can’t try to get that information without being willing to give up his own, and if he did that, the ruse would be over. It’s not as if his name is terribly common, not as if he can mark it as a coincidence that he both looks startlingly like and shares a name with the Crown Prince of Lucis.

“It shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit,” Noctis prepares the drink the best he can, given the ingredients he has at hand. In the end, it’s more of a vodka cranberry than a cosmo, but he thinks the point gets across fine and Silver doesn’t seem apt to complain when he brings the drink over to him. Still, he’s troubled by the harried look on his face and he prepares himself a drink as well, as if that will help wipe the worry away.

“No. You’re right, I shouldn’t.” Silver agrees, but his voice is more tired than resolute. Maybe there’s really nothing he can do about it. Word would spread, after all, if he was rude to a customer, wouldn’t it? And with such a niche, it would spread fast. Every part of his business could be at risk—including the part that brings him to Alter Ego so often. That idea makes Noctis’s stomach drop and he sets it aside as quickly as he can.

“Maybe a quiet night in will help you forget about that mess?” Noctis offers the idea, and he floats it as if it’s a piece of bait in the water. His entire hope for the evening was always just that, just to spend some time with Silver. But, well, if Silver would rather work out his frustrations in a more physical manner, Noctis isn’t going to complain about that.

A look of relief seems to cross Silver’s face though and he nods once, sipping at his drink. It’s a relief to Noctis too, though he tries somewhat to hide it. He doesn’t know exactly where things go from here, or how to explain that he only wanted to invite his fuckbuddy over so that they could spend some quiet time together. It feels somehow intimate, much more so—or in a different sense—than the nights they spend together at Alter Ego.

“So you really just invited me over to hang out?” Silver sounds… surprised. Not quite suspicious, but not far from it. He has an eyebrow quirked and his lips are tugging into half a smirk. Noctis shrugs at it, but he’s fighting off a smile too. It seems so stupid now, that he worried at all. There have never been strings attached to what he and Silver do, one way or another. And if they’re comfortable with sex—which they so undeniably are—why can’t they be comfortable just with one another’s company?

“I was lonely,” Noctis admits, and the confession makes his cheeks flush a little bit. He’s giving himself away, isn’t he? He’s making it obvious that he doesn’t have some wealth of friends he could call upon in the situation. Gladio is likely enough to be busy, or to want to drag him out to some night spot that Noctis doesn’t necessarily have much interest in—not with Silver on his mind. Ignis would only worry if he called on him now in the evening, when the work for the day had settled down. So that left...nobody, really. Nobody other than Silver. That thought makes the solitude drape around him all over again. “And I was thinking of you.” He adds, as if that helps matters any.

It  _ does  _ make Silver smile and he pats the couch beside himself. There’s something so strange about being invited to sit on his own sofa, but Noctis makes his way over and he cozies right up next to Silver, their shoulders touching while he sits. Again, it’s a sort of closeness that they’re not necessarily accustomed to, without any of the usual heat or suggestion behind it. It’s just...a desire to be near one another. It’s something entirely different from their usual.

“I’ve been thinking of you, too,” Silver offers up, and he lifts his drink for a toast to the mutual concern, “I’ve been thinking that a whole week sure is a long time to wait to see you,” he continues, and Noctis toasts to that, downing a long draw of his straight shot. His stomach rebels against the burn for a moment, but only for a moment before he shakes it off and manages a little smile. 

“I’d been wanting to see you. Outside the club, I mean,” Noctis makes his own admission here, and it’s through a twisting stomach and hammering heartbeat. They’re already here together, so why does he still feel so ill at ease to confess it? Silver smiles and that makes him feel a little bit dizzy, makes his stomach and his heart both do odd things inside him. That smile, Noctis thinks, could win anyone over. It’s only natural it would win him.

“All you ever had to do was ask.” Silver says, tilting his head toward Noctis. He has that same smile still playing his lips as he continues on, “I kinda figured you were too much into the whole secrecy thing for that, Gold. Otherwise I would’ve asked ages ago.” There’s a certain emphasis he puts on the private name and Noctis feels a wash of guilt. He can’t correct him, he can’t tell him the truth. It’s too dangerous. It’s dangerous for both of them.

What are the possible outcomes here? The first is that Silver already knows, that he’s simply playing a game, trying to coax out a confession. And what happens then? Does anything change? Is it the last bit of information Silver needs to take his big scoop off to some tabloid and line his pockets nicely enough that he can start telling customers to fuck off when they deserve it? A strange part of Noctis almost feels like it would be worth it in that case.

The other possibility is that Silver doesn’t know. That Noctis says his name and the wheels start spinning and he suddenly flees, realizing he’s in over his head. It’s not exactly easy, after all, being the secret lover of royalty. Knowing that the press will be after him, too, of there’s so much as a single slip. Knowing that he’s been bedding the Crown Prince without ever being told. Is there betrayal in that fact? Noctis can’t quite figure it out.

“I’m sorry. I—” Noctis is ready to say that he doesn’t have any choice in the matter. For the most part, that’s true. It’s easier for both of them if he doesn’t say, if he doesn’t let on the truth. They can both feign ignorance and innocence and continue on with their lives as they stand. They can have these quiet nights together if they want, even if they have to use hastily constructed identities to facilitate them.

“—No, don’t worry about it. I get it. Just teasing, okay?” Silver flashes a quick, wide smile and he drains the rest of his drink. He sets the glass aside and he turns a little in his seat so he’s properly facing Noctis—facing  _ Gold.  _ “There’s a reason we don’t use real names, right? We have to keep ourselves safe. I wouldn’t do anything to put you in a bad situation, Gold. Really.” 

And Noctis, for the moment, absolutely believes that. There’s so much earnestness in Silver’s face, in his words, that he just feels another stab of guilt. Why can’t he just give in and trust him? Why can’t he believe deeply enough that there’s no malice, no desire for fortune that would tear them apart so easily? Surely, if he’s coming here just for a night together, Silver must share some of the same confusing feelings Noctis is harboring. So why not just give in?

“Thanks, Silver. I wouldn’t keep the secret if I didn’t have to. It’s not that I don’t trust you, y’know. I just can’t risk it. For both our sakes.” It sounds like a load of shit, Noctis is well aware, but Silver still smiles at him and he still eases closer, so his arm is snaking around Noct’s shoulders and his head is resting on one.The feeling is awkward for a moment, then decidedly not, decidedly better than anything else he’s felt for at least the whole of the week.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Let’s...just not worry about any of that right now. I’ve had about enough worrying for one night.” Silver curls in further, drawing his feet up under himself and properly lounging against Noctis and gods, it feels good. It feels  _ right _ . It should be terrifying, just how  _ right  _ it feels. 

The whole night should be terrifying. The way that they spend it curled together like that on Noctis’s couch, flipping through channels before deciding on some dumb horror movie to keep them company. It should be terrifying when Noctis is suddenly holding Silver properly, letting him hide his face against his chest when the gore gets to be too much for him on the screen.

It should be worrisome, how easily they can joke about the bad effects, or how easily Noctis can tease when one of the jump scares has Silver clinging harder. Noctis should see red flags when they’re making each other drinks, giggling at their second—or is it third?—bad movie for the night.

Noctis should be horrified when he wakes up happily, late in the morning, with Silver still tucked warm and close in his arms. He should be sending him home and apologizing for the work he has to do, for the life he has to get back to.

He should be doing anything other than what he is.

And what he is, is falling in love.                 __


End file.
